


Reunion

by Dystopian_Dramaqueen



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: Canada, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, Epic Love, Escape from gilead, F/M, Facing old trauma, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Love, Lust, NICK AND JUNE FOREVER, Nick is a good dad, Nick meeting Holly for the first time, Oral Sex, Passion, Rediscovering eachother, Their passion picks up right where it left off, True Love, growing together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-05-21 20:02:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 20,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14921951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dystopian_Dramaqueen/pseuds/Dystopian_Dramaqueen
Summary: June has escaped Gilead.A year later, Nick makes it out too.They heal and build a new life together.*** Chapters 15-17 are new. Story is complete for now. ***Please be aware that this story will prioritize fluff and smut over perfect characterization.





	1. Reunion

I think it’s been a year.

Since I escaped Gilead.

Hard to tell because every day here is the same. 

I think it's Winter. November? December? Doesn't matter. Fucking cold. Like it was a year ago.

We're definitely in the North. The landscape around us is desolate. Flat. Uninhabited. Rural. 

I think this used to be North Dakota. Before it was Gilead. 

 

It isn't Gilead anymore. It's been reclaimed. Liberated by an international military force of the United Nations.

The borders of Gilead are shrinking. The noose is tightening around them.

I'm thankful for that. I just wish it would happen faster. 

 

I live and work at a refugee camp. 

In the early days this was just an informal drop point for people smuggled out by Mayday. Far enough away from major cities to go unnoticed.

But it's become so much more than that. We have support and funding from the International Red Cross and other human rights organizations.

We have healthcare workers, counselors, social workers, representatives from the Canadian embassy, cooks, teachers.

We're our own little city.

 

I work as an intake officer. Processing new arrivals from Gilead.

I'm the first face they see when they step out of the vans ragged and disoriented.

Their expressions are always the same. Terror. Shielding their eyes against the harsh sunlight after days in the dark.

My job is to reassure them that they're safe. That their suffering is over. That their healing can begin.

But it's a lie. I don’t think any of us will ever feel safe again. Wounds that big never really heal. 

I log their names. Their hometowns. Their stories. Any fragments they remember from before.  

I give them bags of supplies and show them where to clean up.

Most people stay a few days or weeks before leaving for Canada. Every case is different.

Some have nowhere to go. Some want to stay and help like I did. 

 

Hard to believe that it was me, a year ago. Stepping out of a black van.

Terrified. Certain it was a trap. That I'd been transported to my death.

I still remember that first night. After the initial shock wore off.

In the silence of the barracks. Seeing myself in a mirror for the first time in over a year. 

I didn't recognize myself.

I saw a doll looking back at me. A doll dressed in red.

Like all the other handmaids. A plaything of the regime.

I kept thinking of the night Waterford took me to Jezebel's.

He shaved my legs. Curled my hair. Chose my dress and shoes. Adorned me with costume jewelry.

Waterford's pretty little doll.

Styling me for his arousal before he raped me.

Lips painted red. Red like the blood in my mouth- as I bit my cheek to hold back tears.  

I shaved my head that night and the doll disappeared from the mirror.

I'd always wanted a pixie cut. 

 

Everyone wears the same gender neutral clothes here. Olive green T-shirts, sweatshirts and cargo pants.

It feels right- because all of us are powerful. Everyone here is equal.

I run at least three miles a day. It feels incredible. Getting my strength back. Reclaiming my body.

 

We live and die by routine.

Chores. Paperwork. So much paperwork. Meals. Sleep. Repeat.

Day in, day out. Nothing changes except the names on the forms. 

I will admit. That each day I wait for Hannah. But it's never her. 

Maybe tomorrow. 

\-------------------------------

 

I find myself taking a brief break to rest my eyes. Shaking my hand to ease the finger cramps. 

So much fucking paperwork.  

I hear someone step up to my desk and stir back to action.

“Be right with you.” I grab a blank form from the filing cabinet without looking up.

Always the same routine. Over and over again. 

“Let’s start with your last name.” I say automatically. Irritated by the pause that follows.

“Blaine.”

“First name?” 

“Nick.”

My body freezes.

**That name. That voice.**

I look up from the desk slowly. Trying to slow my racing heart. Trying not to get my hopes up.  

Male. Black clothes. Pale skin. I summon my courage and find his gaze.

My God. It really is him. Nick Blaine. Warm dark eyes searching mine for recognition.

He's older. There's more grey in his hair. More fine lines by his eyes. But it's him.

 

Someone farther back in line clears their throat and shuffles impatiently. I realize I’m staring. 

I take a quick centering breath. Get your shit together June. Resume the act.

I find his eyes again. Expression curt and professional. “I'll show you around. Come with me.” 

Nick nods. Just the hint of a smile in his eyes.

 

I grab a supply bag and lead him toward the barracks. Business as usual. Nothing to see here.

When we're far enough away, I check over my shoulder and take a slight detour.

The dining hall should be empty this time of day. We need somewhere to talk in private.

I unlock the door and signal him inside, locking it behind us.

I lead him through the kitchen and into the walk-in pantry. Should be private enough.

I slide the final bolt into place.

 

Our bags fall to the floor.

We embrace, holding each other tight.

Minutes pass in silence. We don't talk. Barely daring to breathe.

I'm suddenly terrified this isn't real. I hadn’t let myself hope for this. I knew I'd never see him again. 

I can't stand the thought of letting him go. In case this is just another dream.  

 

His grip loosens-just enough for his hand to find my belly. Where our child had been. I’m clearly no longer pregnant.

Nick pulls back, face unreadable. Eyes searching mine. His unspoken question hangs in the silence. Did our baby make it?

His lips part to voice the question, closing without a sound. I can see from his face that he hadn’t imagined a happy ending.

His eyes shine with unshed tears. Expression sadder with every passing second. 

My heart pulls. I take his hands in mine. Urgently needing to save him any more grief and suffering. Now and from this moment forward.

I find his eyes and smile. “We had a little girl.”

Nick blinks and looks at me with the same stunned expression as when I first told him I was pregnant.

I nod confirmation, tears pricking my eyes.

”She looks **just** like you. Dark hair, dark eyes. I’ll take you to meet her when you’re ready.”

His jaw clenches. I see him steeling himself against whatever he's feeling. Pushing it down. Feelings get you killed in Gilead. We buried the soft parts of ourselves to survive.

I pull him back into my arms. “It's ok.” I whisper. “We made it. All three of us made it Nick. We’re safe now.”

My well rehearsed line- but it feels possible now. I allow myself to feel a flicker of hope for the first time.

Of all possible endings- this one- with both of us alive and together- had seemed impossible. But here we are. Against all odds.

I stroke his hair. Gradually I feel his shoulders soften, feel the tension drop away.

Like he believes me. That it’s safe to let his guard down and just breathe. He hugs me tighter. Head leaning into my neck. 

 

Eventually he draws a deep slow breath and finally pulls away. His face wet with tears.

He takes my face in his hands. Expression solemn. Studying me. Like he’s handling something fragile, delicate, precious.

A feeling of urgency rises inside me. I don’t want that look. I don't need tenderness right now.

I want dopamine. I want to get high off his body.

I want to fuck him until I can’t think straight. 

 

Nick traces my lips with his thumb and leans in to kiss me gently.

I shake my head and pull away before his lips touch mine.

“Not like that.” I say. Growing bolder. Heart thundering in my chest. 

His eyes narrow slightly in confusion.

 

I turn my face into his hand, taking his thumb in my mouth.

Surrounding him with warm moist velvet. Sucking down gently. Like a little taste of what's to come.

His breath catches with a shiver as understanding crosses his face. He swallows hard, eyes growing darker. Breaths coming more rapidly.

His body remembers mine.

I smile inwardly. I admit it feels powerful. Making a man like this want something.

Holding his gaze, I slide my lips and tongue forward and back sensuously around his thumb. Showing him what I want to do to other parts of him.

I smile with my eyes and bite down just a little. Nick winces at the unexpected pain.

He moves suddenly, grabbing my hips. Spurred to action by the adrenaline rush.

 

He walks me backward roughly until my back hits the wall.

Immobilizing me with the weight of his body. Holding my wrists down firmly at my sides.

His knee wedges between my legs, pinning me to the wall.

His hips are heavy against me. A deep ache builds between my legs.

His lips graze my neck, my ear. Slowly. Like he has all the time in the world. “Better?” He whispers.

I nod. Heart pounding. It’s agonizing being this close but unable to move or touch him. My nerves are on fire.

His deep velvety voice in my ear again. “Tell me what you need." His lips ghost over my neck. "What you want.”

My breath quickens, hairs standing on end. I swallow hard and whisper: “I want you to fuck me."

My breath catches. I find his eyes. Locked on mine.

"Right now. Right here.” Our heavy breathing synchronizes. The longing is unbearable. “Hard.”

 

His hands are on me. Rediscovering my breasts. Kneading them roughly through my shirt as we kiss frantically. 

I break the kiss to peel his shirt off and throw it to the ground.

My shirt and bra join it a second later.

Belts next. Dropping loudly to the floor.

Nick unzips and slides my pants off. 

He pulls away and looks down. Fingers exploring the black lace between us. Already so wet for him.

The look on his face is a mix of worship and lust. I remember that he’s never seen me in real underwear.  I think he likes it....

He pulls me into an urgent kiss, breaking it to quickly pepper my collarbone, my breastbone, my belly with kisses as he drops to his knees.

He glances up at me to check in, smirking when he sees my expression. I guess I look into it. 

He kisses my thighs passionately before finding the edge of my panties. Hooking his fingers around the lace, sliding them down quickly with trembling hands.

I step out and he tosses them aside. That was my last scrap of clothing.

 

“Does anyone know we’re here?” He asks, breath warm against my stomach. Kissing me where our baby had been. 

I shake my head- unable to form words. Body trembling uncontrollably. The desire almost unbearable.

I lean back on the wall for balance and close my eyes. He lifts my right leg, draping my knee over his shoulder.

Then I feel his mouth on me. Warm. So soft. So perfect. 

 

I press my lips shut out of habit. We'd always made love in silence.

Being heard meant being found. Being found meant death or worse.

Then I realize that this isn't a crime.

Pleasure isn’t illegal here. No one can stop us. 

 

It feels too fucking good. His hands, his mouth on me. It’s been so long.

I’ve wanted this so badly. Thought of him every day. Every waking moment.

A whimper breaks from me, then another. Louder.

Broken helpless sounds. Completely beyond my control. 

I press my lips together again in vain, only to part them for him again when ecstasy takes my next breath.

I stop fighting. I let the sounds come. Let him hear what he’s doing to me. 

 

Goosebumps rise on Nick's neck.

His fingers dig into my hips. 

With every moan he draws from me, his body tenses. 

His breaths become rapid. Shallow. Ragged.

Then the most delicious deep groans start to accompany the movements of his tongue.

I've never heard him like this. It’s intoxicating.

His movements become feverish. Faster, deeper.

His noises louder, more desperate.

 

My legs falter- weak with need. Nick feels it and catches me.

His grip tightens on my hips, holding me up against the wall. If he weren’t propping me up I’d fall. 

I grip his hair, overcome, out of my mind with blissful pleasure, crying out loudly for more.

And so it goes. Every move, every sound we make is unbearably erotic for the other.

Our sex was always phenomenal. But hearing each other like this- for the first time- is gasoline on the fire.

Every time one of us gets too close to the edge-we pause. Clinging to each other, just breathing until we regain control. 

We continue like this. On the edge of climax together. For what seems like hours.

\-----------------------

Back at the intake desk, June’s supervisor comes by to check on her.

He sees that she isn't at her post. It looks like her line hasn’t moved in an hour.

He reassigns the refugees in her line to other officers. Starts walking toward the camp.

He wonders if her visitor was hungry. Maybe she had let him into the dining hall. He makes a mental note to review intake protocol with her.

He swings the dining hall door open. Flips on the lights. He shines his flashlight around the hall. Empty tables. No one here.

He turns to leave but is startled when he hears a crash in the kitchen.

He moves his flashlight beam, takes a few steps but freezes when he hears another impact. This time against the door of the pantry. The sounds muffled but unmistakable.

He pauses. Recognition dawning on him. June missing. With a new man. Someone she recognized.

A smile crosses his face and he nods approval. This must be her baby’s father. With the population crisis, fertile couples are never interrupted.

He flips the lights off on his way out. Locks the door behind him. Makes his way back to June’s desk, grabs a blank form. 

He gestures at the line of refugees. “Next!”

\------------------------

Back in the pantry we're fucking hard against the door.

Movements rough and desperate.

Holding each other's gaze as we come undone.

Greedy. Unable to slow down. 

The sweet pressure builds until it’s unbearable. 

Nick exhales sharply, bracing against the door, burying his face in my neck.

I grip his hair as I cry out to him. 

We come together. Hard and loud.


	2. Starving

 

I pull the door of the dining hall shut and locks it behind us. I leads Nick towards the barracks to get settled.

 

This space, the barracks, used to be a gymnasium. The refugee camp used to be a school. Back when this was North Dakota. When this was still American soil. Before the Sons of Jacob. Before everything went to shit. Rows of bunk beds fill the space. Newly built to house the ever increasing flow of refugees from  Gilead. Bare, thin mattresses line the wood frames. Empty this time of day. 

 

I gesture to the beds. “Take your pick.” 

 

Nick slides the duffel bag from his shoulder and sits on the nearest bunk. Zips it open to see a change of clothes, clean set of sheets, washcloth, ziplock bag of toiletries.

 

I watch him. “Hungry?”

 

“Starving.”

 

“When’s the last time you ate?”

 

“Don’t know. Couple days.” He says it causally. Like it doesn’t matter.

 

I kneel on the floor beside his bunk, zip my supply bag open. Tossing a few things onto the mattress next to him. Two apples. A Milky Way bar. Bottled water.

 

Nick mutters thanks as he cracks the water and drains it in seconds. 

 

I nod. “Next meal's at 5. Get there early. There’s enough, but they give out more at the beginning.”

 

The Milky Way is open and half gone in one bite. Nick’s eyes close and an obscene moan escapes him as he chews slowly. “Oh... my God...”

 

My smirk grows. “I know, right? The things we took for granted.”

 

Nick, meanwhile is nodding. Eyes closed, having a religious experience as he savors the second half of the candy bar. “I’d forgotten how incredible these are.”

 

I watch him. Mind quietly absorbing, cataloging, memorizing every detail in front of me. As starved for Nick as he is for food.

 

He starts in on the first apple. I stand and pick up the empty water bottle. Walking across the gym to fill it for him.

 

 _Probably the original water fountains_ . I think, pressing the cold metal bar. _The star basketball player probably drank this same water. The cheerleaders._ I think back to all the things that seemed to matter in high school. Clothes. Gossip. Curfews. _Simpler days. Some things haven’t changed. Sex. Getting pregnant. Not getting pregnant. Fighting. Secrets._ _But the stakes are so much higher now._ _All those people still inside. Still prisoner._ _Like Hannah._

 

I quiet my mind before it goes down the rabbit hole. The familiar spiral of guilt shame and terror. I've mastered mindfulness over the past year. Taught by one of the counselors. It's been a life saver. I take a deep breath. Focusing on the ice cold water now overflowing from the clear plastic bottle. Evian. Mountains on the label. Blue and white. I smile. Calmed. Back in the moment.

 

I return to Nick. Putting the apple cores back in my bag. Handing him the water. He sips it slowly. “Thanks.”

 

I nod with a brief smile.

 

He pats the mattress beside him. I sit, ducking my head forward slightly, elbows on my knees. After a pause I ask “How’d you get out?”

 

Nick sighs. Shakes his head. “Long story.”

 

I look at him. “I’ve got time.”

 

He nods. Trying to pick his next words. “Can I see the baby first?”

 

My face twists.  Tears and a smile fight for dominance as I realize he doesn't even know his daughter's name.

 

I nods. “Yeah, of course. Come on.” 

 

 

 


	3. Holly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick meets his daughter Holly for the first time. 
> 
> June breaks him in slowly.
> 
> June POV

 

 

The lights are off in the daycare room. The children must be playing outside.

 

I realize this is a blessing in disguise. A chance to acclimate Nick slowly to this new world.

 

My mind flashes to Luke- how he cried the first time he held Hannah. It’s a lot.

 

The daycare is a converted classroom. It has the universal daycare scent of diaper wipes, bananas, peanut butter crackers and Lysol.

 

I squeeze Nick's hand. “There’s someone important you should meet.”

 

I walk to Holly’s cubby and pull out her daybag. It’s plain. Nothing like the sparkly pink designer diaper bag I got at Hannah’s baby shower. It’s just a smaller version of the duffle bag the refugees are issued. Stocked with baby supplies. Diapers. Donated baby clothes.

 

I rummage through it until I find what I’m looking for. A shabby, well loved toy bunny. White and purple. Missing one eye.

 

I hand it to Nick with mock formality.

 

“Mr. Bunny, this is Nicholas Blaine. Nick- Mr. Bunny.”  

 

Nick smirks, taking the toy. “Nice to meet you.”

 

Next we go through Holly’s folder- where the daycare ladies leave any arts and crafts the kids make.

 

It’s the strangest thing. All the other kids’ glue and popsicle stick projects are garbage. But Holly’s creations are somehow more precious to me than anything in the Met or the Louvre.

 

I pull out this week’s painting. Orange construction paper. Wrinkled from too much green and black and red paint. Bold finger swipes at angles across the page, framing a tiny handprint in the center. I turn, handing the finger painting to Nick.

 

He holds it, taking it in. Voice quiet. “...she made this?” I nod. Nick nods, transfixed. “...it’s… **good**.”

 

I laugh. “That’s what I keep saying! Not bad for a 1 year old. She definitely has art school in her future.”  

 

Nick swallows. Shaking his head. Lost for words.

 

I smile. Glad we’re easing into this slowly.

 

My stomach twists as it hits me suddenly. He’s missed her whole life so far. He wasn’t there for his daughter’s birth. Her first tooth. Her first steps. And there aren’t any photo albums. No family videos. No way to get those precious moments back. My heart aches at the thought.

 

_Fuck that. All we ever really have is the present. Time to make some memories._

 

I smile at Nick. “Ready?”  

 

He looks at me and nods unconvincingly.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------

 

We approach the playground slowly. I hang a few steps behind him. His eyes scan the play equipment. Mostly older kids. It’s loud. Chaotic.

 

I realize he doesn’t see her. I take his hand and lead him to the toddler play area. Fenced. Flat. Padded. Protected from the boisterous games of the older kids.

 

We stand outside the gate for a few minutes. He watches, clearly recognizing her.

 

The chubby one year old girl with dark curly hair and pale skin. Dressed in so many layers she looks like a little padded blimp.

 

Holly is “cruising.” Using chubby mittened hands to hold onto the seesaw for balance. Making her way slowly around its perimeter. She hasn’t walked independently yet. This is her practice.

 

She trips and falls hard on her butt. Crying out of frustration at her developing nervous system.

 

Nick’s body goes rigid, moving for the gate. I block him with my arm. “She’s ok. Just startled.”

 

He shakes his head in disagreement.

 

I lean toward him. “Parenting Rule # 1: Everyone falls. Let her learn to get herself up again. Most important thing you can teach her.”

 

Sure enough, after a few minutes Holly gets back on her feet with a wide triumphant smile. The daycare ladies clap and congratulate her in sing song voices.

 

I feel Nick’s eyes on me. Awed as always at my seemingly inherent parenting wisdom.

 

I enter the gated area and wave him inside, locking the gate behind us. I introduce him to the daycare ladies. “This is Nick, Holly’s dad.” They introduce themselves. It feels so normal. Just saying it. No big deal. This is her dad.

 

I scoop up our daughter. There are no words for the look on his face. Joy, fear, regret- all of it smashed together.

 

I give him a few minutes to watch her up close.  

 

“I named her after my mother. My mother was a strong woman. Which is what she will be." We exchange nods. 

 

This next part is harder. More emotional. 

 

"...she needs a middle name. I was hoping you’d help us with that.”

 

He stares at me- eyes shimmering. Speechless. Clearly moved by the gesture. “Yeah. Of course.”

 

I step closer so they’re touching. 

 

“Holly, this is your daddy, Nick.”

 

Holly looks at me, then at him skeptically. Tilting her head to the side.

 

With his signature perfect timing and forethought, Nick hands her Mr. Bunny.

 

Holly beams and eagerly accepts her beloved toy, confirming its authenticity by drooling and gnawing on its face. She looks back at Nick with curiosity. _This guy can’t be all bad if he’s cool with Mr. Bunny._

 

She reaches for Nick to hold her. He glances at me and I nod. We transfer her to his arms.

 

Holly quickly turns her attention to his shirt. Grabbing a button between her mittened fingers. Pulling it hard. Smearing spit on his shirt as her pincer grip searches for an angle on her treasure.

 

Nick smiles. Amused at the intensity of her exploration. “You like that?”

 

I nod. “Toddler Rule #1: If they can choke on it, they want it.”

 

Nick isn’t listening. He’s in a different universe. Talking to Holly in a soft voice. “Holly. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

 

He touches her cheek. She grips his fingertip, bringing it to her mouth. Nick feigns shock, mouth open wide: “You gonna eat me?!”

 

Holly smiles at him and he smiles back. Big smiles. Like no one’s watching.

 

I’m watching. It’s everything. 

 

I walk behind Nick’s shoulder, making silly faces to get Holly to laugh. It’s the sweetest sound in the world. A bubbly cackle. She laughs with her whole being.

 

I step back and sit on the bench, watching Nick and Holly get to know each other.

 

He’s clearly terrified that she’ll get hurt. He follows her around the seesaw on his knees- keeping his hand on the small of her back to keep her from falling again. It’s fucking adorable. God help him when she turns 16. And God help whoever she decides to date. _She’s gonna get hurt_ . I think. _We all do. The world hurts everyone. But she’s lucky to have a man like you to run to when it happens._ I think of all the times he held me, kissed my tears away. We’re lucky to have him. He’s a good man.

 

I tune back into the present by taking a few deep breaths. Clearing my mind.

 

Nick is playing peekaboo with my daughter. She loves it. Be still my heart. He’s a natural. He looks ridiculous. He’s totally in love with her already. Wrapped around her tiny fingers.

 

I never want this moment to end.

 

This is what we fought for. This is why we survived.

 

This is heaven.

 


	4. No more goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick June and Holly wrap up their first day together as a family. 
> 
> June decides they should never be apart again.

 

\--------------------------------------------

The daycare ladies line the children up to go inside. I sign Holly out so she can stay on the playground with me and Nick. We spend the rest of the afternoon outside playing. Slide, swings, all of it. The wind gets colder as the sun starts setting. Only then do we head inside.

We get dinner together. The dining hall used to be the high school’s cafeteria. I imagine this space decorated with banners advertising prom, wrestling meets, student body elections.

I always avoided the cafeteria in high school. The smells and sounds in there were nauseating. To say nothing of the drama. I'd hang out in the empty theater department, or go to the park next to the school and read. I was a bit of a loner. I liked having a private place. Having a secret. 

Would Nick and I have sat together in high school? I bet he’d have been a loner then too. I indulge the narrative briefly. Would he have been outside too? On the empty swings next to me? Would his gaze still have electrified me? I think it would have. Would we have sat in his car eating PB&J's? Bitching about homework? I bet we would have. Listening to the radio. Alt rock. Or oldies? Metal? I make a mental note to ask him what kind of music he liked in high school. Reminded that I know almost nothing about this man. Except how much me means to me. How much I need him. 

Nick feeds Holly on his lap. Slowly. Messily. Grinning the whole time. 

My eyes linger on Nick's face. I find myself smiling, laughing along with him. It's refreshing, humbling- seeing life through his eyes. Like all parents, I get caught up in the hassles and embarrassment of caring for my little human. Nick just sees her. Our miracle. Our perfect child. It's a good reminder.

He's completely unaware of the spaghetti massacre on his clothes. It’s like those low budget horror movies where zombies disembowel their victims. I need to get HIM a bib.

It isn’t until Holly’s completely done eating and back on my lap that he even looks at his plate. He inhales his cold food like he hasn’t eaten in days. I set aside my roll and apple for him. He needs them more than I do.

There’s no schedule after dinner. Most people just go to bed. I show him the room where Holly and I sleep. Staff get their own little spaces- former teacher’s offices. Small but adequate.

He lingers at the door. It’s awkward. He says goodnight and walks to the dorm. 

I will never understand why I didn’t ask him to stay with us right then. Why I assumed he wanted to go sleep alone in a room full of strangers.  I thought he needed time to settle, to rest or be alone. Or something. I actually have no idea how I rationalized it. I’ve run it through my mind a million times since. It was the wrong choice. Incorrect.

We’re a family. We should be together. End of conversation.

But in Gilead it was punishable by death for us to be seen together. That feeling is hard to forget. I guess it was that outdated instinct that let him leave.

Holly whines loudly, voicing my feelings. Feelings I squash down and silence like a pro. Still functioning in the Gilead mindset. Suppress feelings and needs. Deny and hide anything soft or gentle. But watching Nick walk away hurts. The idea of losing him, even overnight, feels like losing a limb. It feels wrong.

I get Holly down and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep nowhere in sight. Foot twitching nervously. Guts twisting. Mind racing with angst. It’s not even sexual. I’m missing my heart. How can I sleep when my heart is in the next room? It physically hurts. Pain is a sign that something is wrong. My body is telling me that this is wrong.

I throw back the covers. _Fuck this. Life’s too fucking short. It’s a free fucking country. We’re grown ass adults._

I get up, pulling on a sweater. Angry. So angry with myself for having wasted that half hour. Angry with Nick for having let me. _Never again. No more separation._

I get my next door neighbor to sit with Holly while I go collect my boyfriend.

I walk into the refugee dorm. Straight to the bed he picked out earlier that day. Everyone else is asleep or lying quietly. I walk up to Nick. He’s sitting on his bunk, wide awake. Elbows on his knees, staring at Holly’s finger painting in the darkness.

“Hey.”

He looks up at me. Like I’m a life raft in the ocean. “Hey.”

“Let’s go to my place. The mattresses in here suck.”

He nods vigorously, scooping his sheets into his bag and following me out. Reaching for my hand, squeezing it tight as we walk.

_Never again._


	5. Sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick's first night with Holly. 
> 
> Nick picks Holly's middle name.

 

 

\----------------------------

We get back to my room. I thank my neighbor for watching Holly and they leave. Holly's out cold.

I climb back into bed. Content. Safe. Exhausted. It's been a really emotional day. 

Nick drops his bag in the corner, gets undressed. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, watching his daughter hungrily.

“I wanna hold her. But she looks so peaceful.”

“Yeah well Parenting rule #2: Never wake a sleeping baby. Under ANY circumstances.”

He nods. Expression serious. Taking my advice as gospel truth.

I poke his shoulder gently.

“I’m joking. You’ll get plenty of time to hold her. No one’s going to separate us ever again. Not even me.”

He smiles. Acknowledging that even the brief separation was agony for him too. “...it hurts every time I put her down."

I sit up, putting a hand on his thigh. I know the feeling. It's normal. It was agony giving her to the daycare lady the first time. I cried for an hour in the bathroom and checked on her at least 6 times.

I smile. Softening my voice. “They say...you should try to sleep when the baby sleeps. Sometimes babies cry all night. Holly's a good sleeper, but you should rest now in case she needs you later."

Nick nods. Muscles softening. Eyelids finally lagging a bit. That seems to have gotten through. He wants to give her what she needs. If Holly needed him to never sleep again, he’d do it. Walk across fire, he’d do it. But if she needs him to rest, he can rationalize that. 

He smiles at the floor.

“What?” I ask gently

“You’re good at this.” He looks over at me. Eyes, smile so beautiful. 

“You are too.” I smile back at him. We hold hands as I drift off to sleep. 

\-------------------------------------------------

 

I wake up to Nick's deep voice. “June?”

Opening my eyes to see Nick walking Holly in the moonlight. She wiggles restlessly in his arms. Gnawing on his finger.

“Hey. Sorry. I think she’s hungry. I couldn’t find the bottles.”

I sit up against the headboard, rubbing my eyes. I pull his pillow across my lap and reach for Holly. Lifting my shirt up, pulling a boob out automatically.

Nick lays her in my arms gently and I get her positioned in seconds.

Holly latches onto my nipple, sucking contentedly. Tiny hand kneading my breast. Eyes closed. I push her dark hair back from her eyes and yawn.

I look up. Nick is sitting on the bed. Staring at us. Spellbound. Tiny wrinkle between his brows. Trying not to stare. Staring all the same.

“Breastfeeding perk: No bottles needed.” I say sleepily.

He nods. Silent.

“It’s just for comfort at this point. It gets her right back to sleep. I can’t bring myself to wean her. ”

He nods. Eyes shimmering like he can’t imagine why anyone would pressure me to stop the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Holly falls asleep in my arms. I wipe the milk dribble from her open mouth and tuck my breast back under my shirt.

I gesture for Nick to move closer. He’s right beside me in a heartbeat. I gently transfer Holly back to his arms, her chest on his, head over his shoulder. When she’s secure, I move his hand to her back. “Can you rub her back ‘til she burps?”

He nods, eyes on mine. That goofy grin again. Like I'd asked him if he wanted a million dollars.

He walks around the room, bouncing his little girl, humming a soft tune I don’t recognize. I wonder if someone sang it to him when he was little. Or if all parents have instinctual lullabies in their hearts. He pats her back gently. She burps loudly, leaving some on his shoulder. He cuddles her closer to his chest and keeps walking her. Wrapped around her like they're slow dancing. My mind jumps ahead to father daughter dances. Her wedding. It'll look just like this. 

I pull up the covers, laying down on my side, watching them. This is better than any dream.

Nick whispers “She's asleep. Do I have to lay her down?" I shake my head. “Nope. Can’t love a baby too much.” He smiles back at me, gratefully.

When he finally climbs back into bed next to me- he kisses my forehead. Chaste. Draws a breath like something’s on his mind.

I wait. Silence.

“What?” I ask gently

“I was thinking Marie? For her middle name....My...Grandma Marie raised me and Josh.”

“Holly Marie. It sounds good.”

But as soon as the words are out, I roll my eyes and shake my head. Responding to my ever present negative internal monologue.

“What?” He asks, reading my face.

“We just…. have to make sure it doesn’t rhyme with anything weird."

Nick looks at me- no idea what I’m talking about.

“If the name rhymes with poop or butt, she’s done for. Kids make fun of names that rhyme with cuss words.” I see no recognition on his face, so I continue with examples. “Like… Holly Marie go climb a tree or Holly Marie smells like pee.”

Nick raises eyebrow and huffs out a laugh.

“Yaknow what, you’re right. Don’t worry. They’ll give her a mean nickname no matter what. Don’t worry about it. Marie is perfect.”

I lie against his chest. Slipping back into sleep. Leaving him to imagine the wonderful world of bullying that he hadn’t thought of until that very moment.

He shakes his head and swallows thickly. Clears his throat. “I changed my mind.”

“About what?”

“We’re naming her after you. Holly June.”

I’m silent, speechless. I start to protest. 

“Too late. No take backs." He murmurs as he rolls over, back to me. “....Holly June’s from the moon.….smells like a baboon… makes me swoon, that's not even bad. Holly June it is.”

 


	6. Sculpted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June stalks Nick at the gym.  
> She likes what she sees

 

 

\------------------------------------------

I wake up the next morning and Nick’s gone. He always was an early bird. 

There’s a note on his pillow. Boy’s handwriting. Neater than most. I smile. Even his handwriting is cute.

 

_“Gym. See you after. -N”_

 

My eyebrow jumps up and my heartbeat quickens. Nick Blaine covered in sweat? Um, yes please. Sign me up. I've never seen him workout, but bodies like that don’t just happen. I’m suddenly filled with an urgent need to watch. Even if it’s basically stalking. 

The daycare is open 24 hours. Life at a refugee camp isn’t always on a schedule. They get it. It's one of the real perks of life here. It’s a rotating group of women on the base- mothers mostly- who take turns watching the kids. I feed Holly and drop her off. She settles down contentedly with Mr. Bunny.

\---------------

The gym used to be the high school weight room. I find a good angle for spying and settle in for the show.

He’s doing cardio. 15 minutes jumping rope. He doesn’t even break a sweat. My heart quickens with something. Pride? Arousal?

Punching bag next. He's light on his feet. Practicing fake outs, footwork. He's clearly had some training. Sweet mercy that man can maneuver. 

Good lord. Mountain climbers. I’d always thought it was a dumb exercise with a stupid name. No one climbs mountains anymore. But watching him- palms pressed firmly into the floor, core rigid, quickly hiking his knees to his chest- I change my opinion. I’ll allow it. Mountain climbers should remain an integral part of Nick's workout routine. Stupid name or not. 

Planks. Core rigid, back straight. Weight balanced easily between his forearms and toes. 

Then push ups. So many push-ups. Different hand positions. Standard shoulder width apart. Then wide. Then close together. Then staggered. 

He stands. Breathing heavily. Just the slightest flush on his cheeks. He peels his shirt off to wipe his face. 

He looks like an Abercrombie ad. It is ridiculous how turned on I am right now. 

He leaves his t-shirt off, tucking it in the back waistband of his shorts. He walks to the pull up bars. Shirtless pull ups. So. Many. Shirtless. Pull ups.  Dear God that back. Those muscles.

He finishes with sit ups.  Feet hooked under the weight bench. Forward, to each side. A couple hundred.

I leave before he comes out. It would be weird if he knew I was watching. And besides. I know myself. I'm an addict. I can't control myself around him. This isn't the time or place to work out my needs. And I’m not gonna be able to stop myself if he gets too close. Looking like that. Sweaty and shirtless. 

I head off to shower and get ready for the day. 


	7. Messages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick tells June how he spent the last year.

\------------------------------

 

After breakfast, Nick and I head outside to the playground. It’s empty except for us. We sit on the swings. The slanted morning sunlight does nothing to warm the frigid winter air. _What’s that old saying? ‘Clear as a bell, cold as hell_ ’ I think as I burrow my chin deeper into my coat, watching the clouds of steam as I exhale.

 

Pre-Gilead things give me Deja Vu. Like now, seeing Nick on playground swings. Hands stuffed in his pockets. Pushing back and forth absently with his feet. He looks so young. Are we in highschool? What fucking year is it? I urge my mind back to the present, ending my reverie. _We’re here now. Thanks to him. That’s all that matters._ I look over at Nick. “Thanks for getting me out.”

 

He looks up with a smile and nods.

 

“Did Waterford figure out it was you?”

 

He shakes his head. Smile leaving his face.

 

“What happened after I left?”

 

He looks hard at the ground. Leg bouncing nervously.

 

“Hey…” I say- picking up on the energy behind his silence.

 

“It’s fine.” He whispers dismissively.

 

“Nick- whatever happened- you can tell me. It’s ok.”

 

“They can tell pretty quick if you don’t know anything. Luckily I really didn’t know where you were. I just told the truth.”

 

My stomach turns. I don’t know what that means. Was he interrogated? Did he get in trouble? I reach over and take his hand. I squeeze reassuringly. “How’d they know you were involved?”

 

“Waterford called the Eyes. To question Rita. He thought she’d done it. I told them she didn’t know anything. They would have been harder on her.”

 

He looks up, shaking his head when he sees my concern. “They didn’t hurt me. You just have to know how to answer their questions. I’d spent a lot of time preparing for that. I always knew I’d get questioned when I got you out.”

 

Suddenly I’m acutely aware of how dangerous it was for him to help me. “I’m sorry. That still sounds awful.”

 

“It was worth it.” He squeezes my hand, disconnecting to stuff it back in pocket. I do the same. Suddenly conscious of my red, numb hand, in serious danger of frostbite. 

 

“It took me months to find Hannah. Got her out too.”

 

I stare at him, slack jawed. He looks amused at my shock.  

 

“She’s safe. Drove her to the border last week and met up with Luke. She’s staying with him now.”

 

I shake my head, bewildered. _Jesus, Nick. You can’t just casually drop those names in conversation. I know this is the brief version but come on._

 

“Hannah- is she … is she ok? What’d she say?”

 

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a letter.

 

I grab it from him, standing up off the swing. _Hannah held this. This wrinkled paper._ I hug it to my chest, eyes shut. _Hannah. My baby. Is ok. She’s out. Thank God. No. Not God. My prayers to God didn’t get her out. This man did._

 

“I told her to write down everything she wanted to say. So I wouldn’t forget anything.”

 

“Hannah remembered how to write?”

 

Nick nods, smiling. “She said you taught her at your kitchen table. Said you helped her do her homework every night.”

 

My chest is tight. It hurts. I’m so fucking proud of her I can’t breathe. _Writing. In Gilead. An act of rebellion. Because fuck those bastards._

 

I nod. Tears falling now. Overwhelmed at this news. This image from before. Of me as a good mother. In a normal family. I can still see the kitchen table and the stray crayon marks that adorned it.

 

Nick watches my face. Waiting for me to be ready to hear more.

 

“I told her I’d find you. That you’d write back as soon as you could. Then I left to check camps for you.”

 

“How many other refugee camps are there?”

 

He smiles. “Alot. The Canadian Alliance has gained a lot of territory. I checked all the ones east of here.”

 

_He spent a year searching for me. That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard._

 

He sighs. Like he’s considering whether or not to do the next thing. He digs into his pocket. After his first gift, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he pulled out a winning lottery ticket. It’s another scrap of paper. Smaller than the letter. He holds it out. Face darkening.

 

I take it. Unfold it. There’s a phone number I don’t recognize, but a name I do. _Luke Bankole._ It’s Luke’s handwriting.

 

I look up at Nick but his eyes are fixed on the ground. He looks ill. Like he’d just handed over the gun for his own execution. When he finally speaks his voice is quiet. Resigned.

 

“You should let him know you’re ok.”

 


	8. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June calls Luke.  
> Nick has finally achieved his goal of reconnecting June with her family.  
> He assumes this means the end of his relationship with June.  
> June corrects his misconception.

\-----------------------------

I find an empty office. Nick sits outside while I call Luke. We talk for almost an hour. When I hang up, I sit still. Eyes closed.

****

After a few minutes Nick comes in to check on me. He kneels down at my side.

****

He places a hand on my leg reassuringly. Connecting. Not needing me to talk. Just needing me to know he’s there.

 

It helps. Grounds me. 

 

I open my eyes and look at him. We hold a gaze for a few moments. Then my tears spill over. I shake my head. 

****

He pulls me into a hug. I let him hold me, head to his chest.

 

After a few minutes he whispers “You can tell me.”

 

I pull back and look at him. Appreciating the support but not understanding his words. Also not understanding the resigned, agonized look on his face.

 

I wipe my face. “Tell you what?”

****

“What you decided. It’s ok.”

 

He looks at me, eyes begging me to hear him. Trying to keep his voice steady. Clearly trying to be brave, but losing a battle with something very painful. He clears his throat before continuing.

****

“It’s ok. I spent a lot of time knowing this moment was coming. Just say it.”

 

I nod. I look Nick in the eyes and just say it.

 

“It’s over.”

 

Nick nods. Face steeled. But then he looks down at the floor, jaw clenching. His eyebrows wrinkle together. He looks hurt. Was it something I said? I just told him it’s over with Luke. He should be ecstatic. Then I play it back in my mind. _Just say it. It’s over._ … oh my God... I didn’t word that right. I wasn't clear enough. _Jesus , He thinks I’m breaking up with him._ No. No No No. I shake my head vigorously.

****

I jerk his chin up so he has to look at me. His eyes find mine reluctantly. Glazed over. Tuned out. Not wanting to hear any details about of the end of his world.

****

My God he thought I’d break up with him as soon as I talked to Luke!?

****

I always forget how sensitive Nick is. I need to be more careful with my words from now on. I never want to hurt him again. Even accidentally. I can’t stand it. 

****

“With Luke .” I say. Slowly. Clearly. “It’s over- with LUKE.”

 

Nick’s eyes search mine. Puffy and red rimmed. As raw emotionally as I am.

 

I continue in my firm, calm voice. There can be no mistake this time. “I told him that I’m staying here with YOU. That I love YOU. That I choose YOU.”

 

Nick stops my words with his mouth, hands cradling my face.

****

I push Nick to the ground and climb onto his lap, straddling his hips. Holding his face in my hands, kissing him over and over.

****

I’m a mess. Aching to connect. To erase any doubt in his mind. To show him that I’ve chosen him forever.

 

I try to undo his shirt, but my hands are shaking so hard I can’t unfasten a single button. Fumbling with them as ineffectively as our infant daughter. Nick chuckles into my mouth and moves my hands to his face so he can take over. He undoes his top three buttons. Breaking away to pull his shirt off over his head.

 

I pull his face back to mine, hard, helpless whimpers growing louder. I should be embarrassed. But I’m not. It can’t be helped. I’m desperate. Suffering. I need a release I can’t give myself.

 

My urgency rubs off. I don’t know if it’s my movements or my frantic noises, but something deep in his genetic code hears how badly I need him.

 

Now _his_ breaths come faster. _His_ kisses turn desperate. _His_ hands tremble as he fumbles to unhook my bra and strip my shirt off.

****

Then his hands are on my skin. Palms hot against my body. Everywhere **.** My back, my hips, my chest, my breasts. Squeezing my flesh possessively.

****

Relief floods through me at the skin contact, but it’s not enough. I whine into his ear. “Need you. Inside me. Hurry.”

 

His hands drop instantly to comply, but he can’t reach his belt buckle. It’s buried. I’m sitting on it, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. It’s a fucking catch-22. I’m so desperate to get him naked that I can’t let go long enough to get him undressed. I’m aware it’s stupid but I literally can’t stop kissing him. I feel like I’m going insane with desire.

****

Nick senses my conundrum. Telling me to “hold on a second” with a whispered laugh. Nudging me back gently- to no avail. Finally he gets aggressive and picks my hips up, scooting me far enough back on his lap to get a hand between us.

****

Meanwhile I’m kissing him like I’m poisoned and the antidote is in the back of his mouth. Grinding the bulge in his jeans like a horny teenager. He whispers curses and finally gets the upper hand on his belt and zipper. The second they’re open, my hands are on his waistband, shoving the fabric down over his hips.

 

He kisses me hard. Passionately, while lifting and laying me on my back, climbing on top of me. I hang on to his neck and shoulders as he kicks his shoes off. He maneuvers his pants and underwear down and kicks them the rest of the way off without breaking away.  

****

He does have to disconnect briefly to pull my pants and underwear off, peeling them inside out in his haste. He climbs back over me, hips between mine, weight on his elbows.

 

We’re finally naked and we kiss frantically.

****

His cock is pressed between us. Hard, swollen, leaking against my belly. Needing me so badly. My body is just as ready. Soaking wet and swollen. Dripping. Throbbing, aching for him.

****

_Christ. Enough kissing_. I need it inside me.

****

I wrap my heels around his thighs to line his cock up with my slick entrance.

****

Nick feels me taking control. His breath stops against my mouth. He's shaking with anticipation.

****

I pull him to me. The tip of his manhood sinks inside. It’s just the tip but God it’s so good. Thick and achingly hard. My head arches back and I laugh with relief -making my pelvic floor clench around him.

****

Nick’s hand slams into the floor as a needy groan escapes him and he thrusts into me. His eyes find mine- checking in. Not wanting to hurt me in haste. His eyes are dark, lidded, pupils blown out. Feral. Watching my face as he slowly stretches me the rest of the way.

****

When he bottoms out, skin to skin, as close as we can get, he moans that he loves me. The words fall from his lips like a confession. Like they’re too heavy to bear. I hold his gaze and whimper the words back before his lips capture mine.

****

Then he’s moving, hips rolling into me rhythmically. Moaning sweetly with each deep thrust. Weight balanced easily on one forearm, free hand in my hair, caressing my face, palming my breasts. He kisses my neck, my jaw, my chest. Making urgent love to me with his whole being.

 

I surrender to it. To him. Hair tangling as my head slides against the floor with every thrust. I’m smiling, eyes closed in bliss. My mind is finally quiet.

****

My fingertips trace his chiseled chest as it rises over me, as he drives his body deep into mine. Burying himself to the hilt again and again. My soft hips meet his, taking him perfectly. Deepening our impacts.

 

Nick slows his pace and pauses. Kissing my forehead. We lay still for a minute. Drenched in sweat. Bodies tangled sensuously. Chests heaving.

 

I hear his deep voice.

 

“June.”

 

I open my eyes, gazing into his.

 

“Nick.” I breathe. Smiling, touching his face. I feel high. Like I’m dreaming.

 

He nuzzles my nose with his. Lips brushing mine.

 

His voice again. Shaky this time. “I love you so much.”

****

I look up. His eyes are shining with tears.

****

I smile reassuringly, tracing his beautiful lips with my fingertips. “I know. I love you too.”

****

We always get emotional when we fuck this slowly.

****

“I can’t….” He looks down. Blinking rapidly. Clearing his throat. Voice breaking when he speaks again. “I never want to be without you again.”

****

He’s so fucking sweet. My big softie. I smile and stroke his cheek. _Me too, baby._

****

“I want to marry you.”

 

My brows squeeze together. My chest refuses to move air.

 

His eyes search mine nervously. Voice a whisper. “Marry me, June.”

 

I want to answer him but I can’t speak. So I grab his face and kiss him. Putting my answer into the kiss. Praying he hears me.

 

“Yes.” I murmur against his lips, before kissing him again. Cupping his face as the words spill out. “Yes. I want you forever. Just you. Only you.”

 

“Yeah?” He gratefully confirms my words.

 

“Yes.” I breathe with a smile, nodding vigorously. “Absolutely. I want to marry you.”

 

Nick smiles and kisses me deeply, pushing forward with his toes against the floor- pressing his hips into me. We groan together, kissing through the rush. I roll my hips against him. We moan again loudly, so worked up we can barely move.

****

Nick catches my hand, gently pinning it by my head and interlacing our fingers. Squeezing softly. Caressing my thumb with his. He only does that when he’s feeling vulnerable or overwhelmed with emotion. I squeeze back.

 

Nick suddenly goes still. He moans, then whispers “Fuck...June.”  He bites his lip hard, wincing- then he pulls out of me, cock wet against my thigh.

****

I steal a look at his face. He’s in bad shape. Brows clenched together in concentration, eyes shut tight. Cheeks flushed. Forehead sweaty. God he’s fucking gorgeous like this.

****

He kisses my chest- muttering under his breath. “….you feel... SO fucking good….” His back and arms are rigid, trembling with the intensity of holding himself back.

****

_Why do men do this shit? Don’t they know how hot they are when they come? That the hottest thing possible is seeing them weak with desire? That the whole fucking point is making them lose their cool?_

****

Watching him orgasm would get me off immediately. There’s nothing more erotic for me. I want him to come. Loud. Hard. Right now.

 

I gasp “Please don’t stop, Nick.”

 

He shakes his head. “...too close” he murmurs. He adjusts his weight and exhales sharply through his nose, lips pressed together- trying to slow his breathing.

 

I slip my hand between us and find my clit. I rub circles with my middle finger.

****

When he feels what I’m doing- he does what he can to help. Tracing his mouth sensuously along my neck, nibbling my earlobe, worshiping me with open mouthed kisses.

****

It feels incredible. I quickly find the perfect angle, the friction I need, rutting against him in the most improper way. Pretending it’s his hips I’m squeezing between my thighs. Pretending the finger tormenting my clit is his. I feel sweet pressure building at my center. My sex starts to flutter and I slide my hands around to his hips, pulling him toward me. I beg, breathless in his ear “I’m there, Nick. Come with me. Please come with me.”

 

His mouth finds mine as he pushes back inside. Kissing me hard as he pumps into me. Once, twice, and he’s gone. Mouth open, brows clenched. Then he winces, pressing his forehead to mine as the wave of pleasure takes over. Wrenching deep pained moans from him as his warmth spills inside me.

****

Now it’s me fighting to breathe as my body seizes. Clamping around him rhythmically. Mind blank with bliss.

****

The blinding climax lasts and lasts. When the waves recede our breaths slow down. Our muscles relax- and we start untangling, releasing our death grips on each other. Soothing, stroking, murmuring as we come down. Kissing again- gently, sweetly now. Checking in with whispered questions and reassurances and nods and smiles. Laughing. So happy. Lost to the world.

****

I kiss his sweaty forehead. He looks so peaceful. No wrinkles around his eyes. Just the heretofore unused ones on his cheeks. He looks like he feels safe. I want him to look like this forever.


	9. No rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and June unpack their shared trauma surrounding weddings.

\-----------------------

Nick checks to make sure the office door is locked. It wasn't. Whoops. He pulls our clothes into a makeshift pillow. We lay so I’m resting on his chest. His fingers trace patterns on my back as our bodies cool.

 

He clears his throat.

 

I lift my head to listen. Watching his face.

 

“I don’t …..”

 

I look at him questioningly

 

“...have anything to give you.”

 

It hits me. “...are you talking about a ring? I don’t want a ring.”

 

He raises an eyebrow. “My dad always said … even girls who _say_ they don’t want flowers- _do_ want flowers.”

 

I smile. “True. I don’t need or want flowers, but you’d damn sure better get them every valentines, anniversary and birthday. Send them to my work so I can make the other ladies jealous.” He grins widely. Not holding it back at all. “Noted.”

 

“But seriously. When I think of a gold band on your finger...”  I can’t make the words come. It hurts too much. I try to push the pain down. But there’s no way to access that file, to discuss that trauma without just going there. Fuck it. This needs to be said. I sit up.

 

Nick sits up next to me, hand on my leg. He looks worried. I can see from his face he knows what I’m thinking, where my head is, and he’s wishing he hadn’t said anything.

 

_My God. We’ve never talked about what happened. That he was married to a child. That they...that I....made him rape a child._

 

I shake my head. “I want to get this out. I need to say it.” He nods, looking concerned.

 

“You were _everything_ to me. You gave me a reason to live. To not do what the first Offred did.”  

 

Nick’s jaw clenches but he holds my gaze.

 

“I… thought you were getting a promotion. An award.” _Christ I let my guard down. That was my mistake. I should have known the only things Serena awards are fresh torments._ “I didn’t know it was a wedding. _Your_ wedding...”

 

I look up at him. Tears are flowing unchecked down his cheek. He nods, whispering back. “Me either. I didn’t know. I’d never have gone if I knew.”

 

I nod. “Serena- asked me if I thought you looked handsome. Made me watch. I saw you looking at me. And it was like...why did she have to take you from me too? You were all I had. And I wanted to die. So badly. I just wanted the pain, the humiliation- to be over.”

 

Nick pulls me onto his lap, rocking me, holding me together as I break apart again. I collapse into ugly, wracking sobs. 

 

He’s whispering that he’s so sorry. That it wasn’t real. That he didn't mean it. Over and over. He never once shhh’s me or tells me to calm down. He just holds me and apologizes.

 

I cry 'til I’m exhausted. Until it's all out. Hiccupping. Face swollen. 

 

I whisper against his chest. “So. Like I said. I don’t want a fucking ring.”

 

Nick laughs.

 

I look up at him, smiling too. Glad to release the tension. He kisses me softly. Pulling back and wiping my tears away. I wipe his away too.

 

_I feel so much better. I’m glad we did that. How many of those wounds will we have to revisit? That was exhausting but I don’t think therapy would have gotten that deep._

 

“So- no ring. What _do_ you want?”

 

I sniff. Wiping my eyes. “I always hated weddings. Even before Serena married the love of my life off to a child bride.” _Now weddings are gonna need a fucking trigger warning._

 

Nick keeps his face neutral but I can tell he’s amused and curious. Wanting to hear more about a woman who dislikes weddings.

 

“Think about it. Society demands that brides dress in white. A symbol of virginity and purity. Doesn’t that sound as bad as Gilead? Making women wear their sexual status as a costume?”

 

He nods, eyebrows up. He hadn’t thought of that.

 

I continue. “Hide her face with a veil until the legal transaction between father and husband is over. Then let the man see what he bought with the dowry.”

 

“Damn. That’s dark.”

 

“What...do you _like_ weddings?”

 

“I mean...they’re fine…”

 

Now I’m amused and digging for details. “Are you like a secret wedding lover? Did you watch ‘Say Yes to the Dress’?”

 

He looks defensive. “That was a great show.”

 

I stare back in shock, LOVING this detail of his life from before, planning to haze him mercilessly for it. And binge watch all the seasons we missed.

 

“Look. Weddings are an outdated ceremony.” _Gah. Even that word is ruined now._ “I’m no one’s property. I give myself to you freely. I don’t need a preacher’s approval. And I don’t need permission from a government. All that matters is that I choose you forever. No one else.”

 

Nick smiles back “Me too.”

 

“I know! Lets get matching tattoos! Permanent, visible symbols of our bond. We can do them ourselves tomorrow. Or go to Canada next week and let a professional do it.”

 

He smirks “Professional. Definitely.”

 

I slap his shoulder pretending to be insulted. “What you don’t trust me?”

 

“I trust you. But you’re not a tattoo artist. Nothing here is sterile. I don’t want hepatitis.”

 

“Fine. But we’re going. I’ll hold your hand. It’s gonna hurt.”

 

Nick looks down. Blinking back fresh tears. “The only thing that could hurt me...would be losing you." 

 

 _Now THAT is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard._ I kiss him. _“_ Well you're in luck. That's never gonna happen. You're stuck with me."

 

He smiles back, radiant and content. “Good.”

 

 


	10. Work Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick gets his work assignment at the camp  
> June gets a glimpse into his past

\------------------------------

 

I drop Nick off at the human resources office to get him a work assignment. The matching process will take the rest of the day. We agree to meet up for dinner.

 

A trauma counselor does the intake interviews. Being good at something doesn’t necessarily make it _good_ _for you._ When possible, they try to match people with jobs that will help them heal. 

 

Nick and I want to do everything we can to help the rebellion, short of going back into Gilead. I mean... I assume he’d never go back. I’d lose my mind. I’m suddenly filled with panic that the counselor will find he has military experience and send him down to the front? Put him on security detail?

 

I push it down. That’s ridiculous.

 

When he hasn’t come back to our room by 5 pm, I go looking for him. I find his file in the counselor’s office and am surprised to see he was assigned to childcare.

 

I head to the daycare wing. Holly’s napping in the corner. Most of the kids are out on the playground, waiting for their parents to pick them up.

 

Nick is at a table in the back of the room, sitting with a blonde boy, maybe 12 years old. They’re drawing.

 

I walk up behind them quietly. Nick senses my presence and turns to me with a smile “Hey. Jonah, this is June.” We smile and nod. “Thanks for hanging out with me Nick.” Nick nods, patting him on the back once. “Of course. Any time. See you tomorrow.”

 

The boy gathers his drawings and leaves.

 

“The counselor thought it’d be good for me to be near Holly. I told them I didn’t have any experience with kids but they were really short staffed.”

 

I smile. Nodding in awe at the perfection of this assignment. Watching over Holly. Trauma counselor for the win.  

 

Nick continues. “Jonah doesn’t have anyone. They killed his parents. If we hadn’t gotten out, that could have been Holly, you know?”  

 

I nod. “So many orphans.”

 

I look at Nick’s side of the table. He’s been sketching too. Images from before. Small town Americana. A baseball field by a school. An American flag against a clear blue sky. An empty boxing ring. They look almost photographic. The last drawing catches my eye. It’s a lakeside cabin, surrounded by trees. Night time. The sky is solid black at the top of the page. Further down, more and more tiny stars appear. Close to the water, they're innumerable, blending into a sea of fireflies, that blend into reflections of the stars in the water. It’s beautiful. Ethereal. I pick it up. “...this is... _good_.”

 

Nick shrugs. “I almost went to art school. Got a scholarship to U of M but had to turn it down. They needed me at home to keep the lights on.”

 

“Well…” I say “Now we know where Holly gets her talent.”

 

He looks at me. _He hadn't thought of that._  

 

I’m not over the drawing yet. “Where is this? The cabin?”

 

“Mackinac island.” He clears his throat and takes it from me. Slipping it in a folder.

 

“Is it a real place?”

 

He nods. “It’s where we went every summer. The cabin’s still there. I checked when I drove across Michigan. It never had power or running water to begin with. It hasn't aged a day. The well still works. Wood stove. Just like we left it.”

 

“I want to see it. Let’s go sometime.”

 

He nods. "Definitely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to move this along.  
> Next up: #lukesux, then the chapter I actually want to write.  
> Trying to just get this one up so I can move on to the better parts.  
> I edit obsessively after I post, so if the chapters seem rough when they go up, they are. They get cleaner the longer they're up. Sometimes I can't really hear how it sounds 'til I see it on A03.  
> Thanks for reading and writing!  
> Who's excited for June and some NEW HMT CONTENT!!!


	11. Luke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June's past and present collide.

\--------------------------

 

Time to get back to work.

 

The influx of refugees has picked up over the last few months. UN forces are pushing the border of Gilead further and further south.

 

We have reclaimed all of North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, the upper half of Illinois, Indiana and Ohio, as well as Michigan. The Midwest was built by survivors. Their rebellious, independent culture didn’t tolerate Gilead’s repression.

 

My desk is covered in paperwork from the days I’ve been away. I settle down with a coffee to get the forms sorted. It’s early. There aren’t any new arrivals in line yet.

 

\--------------------------

 

Around 3 pm we’re in the thick of it. 10 new refugees arrived today.

 

It’s wonderful, life affirming work. Never ceases to inspire me. It just takes time and patience to get the refugees to talk. They’re so scared. So closed off. Like I was. Our job is like coaxing butterflies from cocoons.

 

I’m interviewing a former Martha named Johanna. We’re talking about her family from before. She’s finally opening up.

 

My supervisor rushes to my desk. He squats down and keeps his voice low. He’s out of breath.

 

“June. Some guy here to see you. Bengal? Bank roll?”

 

I turn to him. “Bankole?”

 

He nods. “He’s making a scene. Demanding to see you.”

 

I nod. My supervisor seems to read my face. “I told them to let your boyfriend know too.”

 

I pause, not sure what to make of that comment. I don’t need protection from Luke. He’s not an abusive ex. He’s my husband. Was… was my husband. He’s not going to hurt me. _Quite the opposite_ I think sadly. Fuck. I wanted to do this months from now. Over coffee. Calmly. Explain my reasoning. Let him down slowly. But here we are. It’s happening today and he’s already upset.

 

“I’ll watch your line, can you go talk with him? He’s at the central office.” The question pulls me back to the present. “I can have security chaperone you if you want.”

 

I shake my head. “No, it’s ok.”

 

I apologize to Johanna and tell her I’ll be right back. My supervisor slips into my seat and takes over the interview.

 

_It’s a 24 hour drive from Toronto to North Dakota. We talked yesterday around noon. Luke came straight here. He probably hasn’t slept. He must be really upset._

 

When I walk into the office, the secretaries are visibly relieved. They point at the conference room. I take one last deep breath. It does nothing to slow my heart or get the knots out of my stomach.

 

Luke is pacing. I can see him through the etched glass window.

 

Guilt washes over me. Yesterday, I broke up with the idea of him. By phone. Impersonally. Like he meant nothing. But here he is. Very real. More handsome than I remembered.

 

As soon as I crack the door, he rushes to me and wraps me in a tight hug. I hug him back. We stand like that for several moments. I’d lost him. The details had grown blurry, faded day by day in Gilead. I grieved his loss and moved on. But feeling him in my arms it all floods back. I remember everything. I loved him. We had a good, normal life together.

 

Luke moves his forehead to mine. Shaking his head. Sniffing. His eyes are so swollen. _He’s been crying. He looks like shit. He really hasn’t slept._

 

I try to make my voice calm, soothing. Like I do with the refugees. “Let’s go for a walk, K? Get some fresh air, something to eat, get some rest, then we can talk.”

 

“No. No.” He shakes his head, wiping his face. “We need to talk now. Just...come home. I don’t understand why you won’t come home.” He’s staring at me, his sadness is overwhelming.

 

I’m shaking my head. “I can’t. I live here now. They need me here.”

 

There’s a spark of anger in his eyes. “But… I need you… Hannah needs you….won’t you even think about coming back with me?”  

 

I shake my head.

 

The anger in his eyes grows.

 

“We are _married_. You are my WIFE!”

 

“Were. We  _were_ married.”

 

“Were??!” He huffs out, eyebrows up, shaking his head. Shocked. Hurt. The anger growing with every passing second. “What am I to you? An afterthought? _I FUCKING WAITED FOR YOU !"_

 

I keep my voice quiet but I can’t stop the words. “I wish you’d done more than wait.” There is a deafening silence. I don't regret saying it. It's the truth. 

 

I hear the conference room door creak open.

 

The secretaries are gathered in a semicircle outside the door, peering in at us. One of them points at her cell phone and mouths “Security?” I shake my head, no.

 

Nick’s there too. I catch his eyes. Asking silently if I’m ok. I nod. He steps inside and pushes the door shut behind him.

 

Luke throws his hands up. “Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. YOU?”

 

Luke shifts his anger from me to Nick. “Is _he_ keeping you from coming home?“

 

Luke quickly crosses the small space, getting right in Nick’s face. “What, you bring me my daughter to justify stealing my wife? That seem like a fair trade to you?”

 

I’m crossing to them “Luke, stop!”

 

Meanwhile, Luke shoves Nick, two open palms to his chest. Nick takes a step backwards. Face calm.

 

“You told me you’d look out for her! Not FUCK her! You fucking promised me.” _*another shove*_

 

“Luke STOP! You’re making a scene.”

 

“Yeah well my wife has been BRAINWASHED by this trash!”

 

I step between them, Luke goes to grab my shoulder, shove me to the side. But Nick grabs Luke’s wrist before he can touch me.  

 

Luke tries to jerk his wrist free, clearly irritated by the immobilizing grip. He locks eyes with Nick. They’re having some kind of non-verbal male interaction. Like a silent chess game of glares and warnings. They seem to reach some sort of understanding. Nick drops Luke’s hand but continues to watch him. “I’ll get Holly” he says, leaving to give us some privacy. He leaves the conference room door open wide, allowing the circle of worried women to chaperone.

 

Luke slumps into one of the empty chairs around the conference table. “Who’s Holly?”

 

He’s looking up at me. I feel like he already knows the answer to that question.

 

I smile reassuringly. “I’ll explain everything tomorrow. Let’s get you cleaned up. It’s been a long day.”

 

His nods. Taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. He looks so exhausted.

 

\-------------------------------------

 

I let Luke into the dining hall and feed him. I show him where to shower and get him a change of clothes. I get him settled in the dorm and tell him I’ll pick him up in the morning.

 

Holly and Nick are already asleep when I get back to our room. I crawl in behind him, wrap my arm around his waist and fall asleep quickly.

 

After breakfast the next morning, Luke and I head outside to the empty playground. He’s quiet for a long time. When he finally talks, he won’t look at me. He just stares at the ground. “I’m so sorry. About what happened.”

 

I nod and take his hand. But I stay quiet. 

 

“We should have left when.... they closed your bank account. After congress... I’ll never forgive myself for that. I was the one who said we should wait it out.”

 

He sniffs. “It never ended for me. I waited for you. I thought about you every day.”

 

“I thought about you too. All the time. I missed you so much.”

 

He finally looks at me. His expression is heartbreaking. He knows its true. That I loved him. He also knows my mind is made up. Our history is not enough. It won’t change how this conversation is going to go.

 

“What happened?...I need to know. What you went through.”

 

I shake my head. Not wanting to talk about Gilead. I spend every waking moment practicing mindfulness. Resisting the urge to dwell in the past. The thoughts are always there. Gathered on the periphery of my consciousness. Specters. Ready and willing to torment me if I lose my grip on the present. I just want to stay here. In this moment. I hate going back. 

 

“It won’t change anything.”

 

“Please.” His voice is firm. 

 

I realize that this may be what he needs. To process. To understand. To get closure. I sigh.

 

“I was running. With Hannah. I heard a gunshot. I imagined the worst."

 

I let this sit for a minute. He searches my eyes. He hadn’t considered that. I thought my husband was dead. Gone forever. I had no hope of ever seeing him again. After a long pause, he nods. Expression changed. Grim.  

"Hannah...she was too heavy. I wasn't strong enough. They caught up. Pulled her out of my arms. She was screaming for me. They knocked me unconscious.

 

I woke up at a high school. A training center. They tagged us. Like cattle. They herded us. With cattle prods. They don’t let you leave the Red Center until you’re broken.”

 

“What do you mean … broken?”

 

“Everyone fights back at the beginning. We all did. But the punishments were so…” Luke's face is blank. He doesn't understand. He needs specifics.

 

“My friend Janine spoke back. To the trainer. So they they cut out her eye.”

 

He's shaking his head. He looks sick. Searching my face but finding no lie. No exaggeration.

 

My friend Emily had a relationship with another woman. They cut off her clit. The first time I ran, they whipped my feet with a cable. Fifty times. I couldn’t walk for two weeks. I would have starved if the other girls hadn’t brought me food."  I pause. Nodding. 

 

"Once they break you, you stop fighting back.”

 

He nods. Tears shimmering in his eyes.

 

“That’s why handmaids look demure. Subservient. That is why the monthly rapes are quiet and civilized. They heap praise on us. Telling us we are doing God’s work. Serving as vessels. Telling us the monthly rapes are an honor. A privilege." Now I feel sick. Hearing it out loud. Remembering. 

 

The first time I got pregnant was also a day I was interrogated. Beaten and shocked. I lost the pregnancy that night. As a punishment, I was locked in an empty room for a month.”

 

Luke has his head in his hands.

 

We sit in silence for a long time. There’s nothing to say. Then it comes to me. What I need to say to Luke.

 

“Can you understand that I’m not ok? After all that? How hard that was to survive? That I can’t go back to before? I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I wish I could. I wish it had never happened. I would go back if I could. Back to our life. Back to you. But I can’t. I can’t be that woman you lost in the woods. She’s gone. They killed her. I’m so sorry. I still care for you. I always will.”

 

“But you don’t love me?”

 

“I’ll always love what we had. I’ll always love you that way.”

 

“But now. You don’t love me- now.”

 

I shake my head gently. “You were dead. Please understand. Til death do us part, Luke. That’s what I promised. And I heard you die.”

 

This lands heavy on him. His voice is so quiet. “Do you love- him?”

 

I nod.

 

“Is Holly…”

 

I nod. “They forced Nick to impregnate me. Because Waterford couldn’t. Nick never hurt me. He protected me. He’s the one who got me out. Nick and Holly are my family now.”

 

Luke nods. He looks so broken. But he finally understands.  

 

He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. “Hannah wants to visit. This summer, when school’s out. Moira wants to move down here with you. I told her I hope she does. She’s a pain in the ass.”  

 

We laugh, releasing the tension. We stand and hug.

 

“I’m so sorry June.”

 

“I know. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: the cabin!


	12. Getting away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and June leave for a week away at MacKinac Island.  
> Backstory and fluff.

**6 Months Later**

 

Moira moved to North Dakota. She lives at the refugee camp with us now. She says it’s a relief to live with people who understand what she went through in Gilead. People who understand PTSD. It’s a much better fit for her. She and Luke really would have killed each other.

 

Moira offered to babysit anytime Nick and I needed a date night. We never took her up on it. We haven’t left Holly, even overnight- since Nick got out of Gilead.

 

But things are finally feeling… stable… safe... normal enough to consider it. Words I never thought I’d claim again.

 

It took 6 months of planning but we’re finally taking Moira up on her offer! We’re taking a week long trip to MacKinac Island. Nick’s childhood vacation spot in the middle of Lake Huron.

 

Just the two of us. Moira will keep Holly while we’re gone. I wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with our baby girl. But Moira is family. She’ll take great care of her.

 

I admit I’m really excited for some time alone with Nick. We’re still living off stolen moments. It’ll be nice to get away. To truly be alone together.

 

Nick made most of the arrangements for the trip. He’s been planning for months. Gathering supplies, making lists. It’s really cute. I think he wants to make it really special.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

The Ferry to Mackinac Island runs once a week. It used to run several times a day, before. It didn’t run at all when Michigan was part of Gilead.

 

Nick’s main concern was making sure we’d have everything we’d need. He’d stayed there for a few weeks last year, done some repairs at the cabin. The island is empty. The hotels and shopping districts barren. Like a ghost town. There aren’t any stores. No power or running water.

 

We’re borrowing a van for the week. Nick got up early to pack it and double check his supply lists. Lots of gasoline. Lots of food. He’s closing the back door when I walk out to meet him. It’s so weird seeing him in real clothes. Weird and wonderful. Jeans and a button down green plaid flannel shirt. He looks sharp.

 

I can tell from his face he’s having similar thoughts about me. And I’m suddenly struck. Realizing what he’s seeing. I put on makeup for the first time...ever? I’m in a white knee length dress with sunflowers. A black zip hoodie and white canvas sneakers. I wanted to be comfortable but cute. But now I realize that he’s watching me walk toward him in a white dress. Ugh. This whole thing reeks of wedding. Not enough to trigger any bad memories. But I ignore the feeling regardless. It’s just a trip. Totally not a wedding.

 

\----------------------------

 

An hour into the trip, Nick is driving and holding my hand on the center console. I’m settled sideways on the passenger seat, facing him. He has a pair of cheap black sunglasses on. The windows are open, and the warm breeze is whipping through his dark curly hair. Usual pompadour blown into a gorgeous mess of dark curls. I still haven’t figured out if his hair just grows like that it or if he styles it. So much I don’t know about him. I reach down with my free hand- pull out my polaroid camera and snap a quick pic of him. I want to remember him like this. He feels me staring and glances over. He gives my hand a squeeze.

 

“Bismark is the last big town in North Dakota. Anything you need from the city?”

 

“Nothing I can think of. Anything you want to do?”

 

“We could make it official.”

 

I look at him. “Make what official?”

 

He’s holding back a smile.

 

“Us?”

 

He glances over, nods confirmation- full out smile at this point.

 

“Like get married? Like a wedding?”

 

He shakes his head with faux disapproval. “Not a wedding. My girlfriend has a thing about weddings. Hates them. Always has.”

 

We ride in silence for a few moments. _Could it be that simple? Could we just do this? Today? My God the freedom of it is almost dizzying. No lists of distant relatives or highschool friends. No planning, no cost. No witnesses, no rings, no flowers. No trigger warning needed. I realize that this is in fact, exactly what I want._

 

“Don’t we need…. Paperwork? Applications? That would take months.”

 

“I handled it. All we have to do is show up.”

 

My heart is beating so fast. Fucking butterflies. God he is such a romantic.

 

I laugh. “Let’s do it! Fuck it!”

 

We're still half an hour from Bismark. I turn on the radio, but there’s nothing. No local stations. Not even Radio Free America. We’re in a dead zone. Nick sees what I’m doing, reaches under his seat and pulls out a cd binder, handing it to me.

 

I flip through the cds. _Classic rock, Oldies, Motown, Jazz, Pop, Punk, Emo, Musicals_

 

A suspicious amount of variety. No clues. I have a sudden, urgent need to know more about him. Which of these is his favorite. Favorite band, favorite style, favorite songs.

 

“What do you like?”

 

“You.”

 

I glance over. He has that smug grin I love. My eyes roll automatically.

 

“Seriously. What do you like?”

 

“Making you happy.”

 

I’m blushing despite my best efforts. “Music wise! Which of these CDs?”

 

“My favorites are in the back.”

 

I flip to the back of the binder. _Love songs, Chill, Random Favorites, Karaoke_

 

The last one catches my eye. Something doesn’t compute. “...there is no way you sing karaoke.”

 

Nick shrugs.

 

“Were you in chorus in school? Church choir?”

 

He nods. “Theater, art, music. Got me through. The freedom of it. It can be whatever you want it to be. Even if your life is going to shit.”

 

“No. Fucking. Way! Sing something!”

 

Nick shakes his head with a smirk.

 

“Oh my God what we’re sleeping together and you won’t sing for me?”

 

“Maybe after I get to know you a little better. Too intimate for the first date.” I realize he’s right. This really is our first date. We have a child together. We’ve lived through a war. And we’ve never been on a date.

 

“Were you in any musicals?” He nods. “Bullshit. I don’t believe you. I’m gonna need proof. Pics or it didnt happen. I literally can’t imagine you being… expressive? Verbal?”

 

“Yeah back before I knew any better. My yearbooks are at the cabin. You can see if I’m lying or not.”

 

I pull the first CD out of the sleeve. His handwriting, in sharpie. “Love Songs.” I go to put it in the stereo but his hand is stopping me. Blocking the CD player.

 

He shakes his head seriously. “Not that one.”

 

I look questioningly.

 

“Not yet. We should wait til we’re somewhere private.” A smile creeps across his face.

 

I roll my eyes again. “Fine. Whatever.” Flipping the radio to scan.

 

He shrugs and shakes his head. “You’ll see.”

 


	13. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and June arrive at Mackinac Island for a week alone together.  
> 

\-------------------------

 

We’re the only people on the Ferry across Lake Huron. We lay on the hood of his car. He lights a cigarette, I throw it overboard. He gives up after the third try. 

 

\-------------------------

 

Nick’s family’s cabin is further back on the island. In a secluded patch of woods overlooking a lake. The driveway is overgrown with weeds but he recognizes it instantly. We pull in and park. Nick carries in the boxes we’ll need to get settled. I get our bags. 

 

The key is in a thermos under the porch. I have that deja vu feeling again. Like we could be somewhere else in time and space. An alternate timeline. Where Gilead never even happened.

 

I look around. It’s dusty. Clean but dusty. Sheets over the furniture. Quaint. Light wood floors and cabinets. Faded yellows and white lace. Like time froze in the 1950s.

 

Nick’s bustling around unpacking. “We’ve got a wood stove for cooking. I know it’s summer but I should go chop some firewood.”

 

I pretend to be indifferent. I say I’ll use the time to clean up. What I actually do is pull a chair over to the window and settle in for the show. Like a stalker. Sorry. Not sorry.

 

He’s rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows. Tan forearms flexing as he pulls on a pair of work gloves. Reminds me of the first day I saw him. I keep the good part of that memory and dissociate it from the context. Nick is hot when he does yardwork. I can keep that part.

 

He stands a log up and splits it. He picks up the broken pieces and collects them into the wheelbarrow. I settle back in my chair. After about 10 minutes in the afternoon sun he takes off his flannel and knots it around his waist. He rolls the sleeves of his black t-shirt up over his shoulders and continues. He looks like John Travolta in Grease. Or James Dean. It’s like the archetype of the hot bad boy. And that... _that is my husband_. _Holy shit._ I shake my head in disbelief. And this… this is like my own private strip tease. Lumberjack themed. I bite my lip at the bachelorette party analogy. Moira would be proud. She would approve. I deserve this. And Nick is way hotter than some random stripper. About 5 minutes later the t-shirt comes off too. He wipes his face and hangs it on the wheelbarrow. Sweet mercy. That body. Those abs. Rock solid. Slick with sweat. Yes. Please.

 

—————----——

 

It’s twilight by the time he’s done. We’re stocked up on wood for the week. I admit it feels secure in a very old school, primal way. I feel protected. Safe.

 

Nick takes a cold shower. I hang out in his bedroom while I’m waiting. I kill time by looking through his hopechest. Baseball glove. Boxing ribbons. Sketchbooks. God his old sketchbooks. This is as close as I’ll get to a journal. To a glimpse into his past. I slip one into my bag.

 

I find his middle school yearbook. Flip to the back. Not a lot of signatures. I find myself checking the names. Mostly boys. Jesus I’m acting like a jealous creeper. I shake my head. Its ok if he had girlfriends. None of my business. I flip to the clubs. Sure enough. Chorus. Oh my god baby Nick.

 

He walks into the bedroom in a pair of jeans and a clean grey T-shirt. Toweling his hair. I slide the yearbook into my bag too.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey.”

 

We’re grinning like teenagers when their parents are away. He walks to me and wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug.

 

“So do you want to look around? I can give you the tour…”

 

I’m gripping his shirt and pulling him into a kiss. Hand sliding down the front of his jeans. His breath catches and he moans quietly.

 

“Nope. Already found what I’m looking for.”

 

Nick kisses me and backs me up to the dresser. Lifts me up to sit on top.

 

Reaches to his back pocket, pulls out a condom. He tears the foil wrapper, unzips his jeans, reaches into his shorts, rolls the condom down his length. Then he’s kissing me again, harder now. Breathing faster. Hands on my face, thumb caressing my chin.

 

Pressure builds in my chest. To say what I’ve been holding back the past 6 months. I pull away.  Words tumbling out before I can stop them.

 

“I want another baby.”

 

Nick freezes, moving back enough to hold my gaze. Face blank. Taking information, not giving it. “You sure?”

 

I’m stunned. That reaction is actually the exact opposite of what I was going for. _I’m triggering something for him._ I touch his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Don’t do it for me.”

 

I shake my head, dismissing the thought. “This has _nothing_ to do with you.”  

 

He looks unconvinced.

 

“It’s actually really selfish. I just miss having giant swollen ankles. Peeing every 10 minutes. Being on the verge of vomiting for 3 mo. The savage hemorrhoids. Strangers touching my body and giving me unsolicited advice. It’s all stuff I just really want to experience again, Yaknow?”

 

Nick keeps his expression neutral but his eyes are smiling.

 

“Am I not selling it?”

 

He shakes his head.

 

“I’m serious! I’m only involving you because I need sperm. If I could reproduce asexually I’d have done it by now. Left you out of this entirely.” That gets a smirk. He looks down to hide it. Old habit. When he looks back up I continue.

 

“I’m already off the pill.”

 

Nick’s holding my gaze.

 

“Stopped it a while ago. You’re so good about condoms it didn’t seem relevant.”

 

“When was your last period?”

 

“Two weeks ago.”

 

“... June you’re...”  Nick swallows.

 

I nod. “Fertile right now.”

 

His eyes close. He presses his lips together briefly and nods. “Please be sure.”

 

“I am. I want this.”  

 

I’m suddenly wracked with anxiety. Feeling stupid. I feel tears pricking my eyes as I try to voice the question I should have asked first. I blink rapidly to push the tears down.  “Do you? Want that too?” 

 

Nick’s eyes dart around my face, reading me, quickly changing his tone, stepping closer, soothing and apologizing, hands on my arms. “Hey, of course I do. You know I do. I just need to know _you’re_ sure.”

 

Something changes. It’s subtle but palpable. The pace of his heartbeat, or the temperature of his body. The width of his pupils. Some barrier falls away as he abandons any remaining hesitation. Voice low and seductive. “Because I do. Want that.” He draws a shuddering breath, eyes on mine. “More than anything.”

 

My heart is pounding.

 

I trace his flat stomach with my fingertips. They wander south, under his shorts. He’s fully erect, waiting, ready for me. I surround him with my hand. I can feel how warm, how hard he is even through the latex. I grip the condom and slowly slip it off. I steal a peek at his face. He’s a hot mess of emotions- watching as I remove the barrier between us. As I give him permission. As I ask for all of him.

 

“Give me another baby, Nick.”

 

He slowly raises his dark smoldering eyes to mine. A smirk flirts at the corner of his mouth as his brow quirks up suggestively. His next words are a low growl.

 

“Say that again.”

 

I can’t help the corresponding suggestive expression on my face as my heart races off without me.

 

“I want to make a baby with you.”

 

Nick steps closer. Movements slow. Intentional. Like the day with the ice.

 

“Right now?”

 

I’m nodding, chest heaving. Lidded, dilated eyes locked on his.

 

He’s standing right between my legs now. Body so close to mine. Hands resting on my thighs. They slide upward, slowly. So slowly. Under my dress. His fingers hook my cotton panties and I lift my hips so he can pull them off.

 

As he kisses my lips softly, he’s pushing my dress up, bunching it around my hips. He pulls me right to the edge. Watching my face as he urges my bare thighs apart with his hands. I open wide for him, feeling the cool evening air on my wet exposed skin. I want him so badly I can barely breathe.

 

He reads my expression- pleased with his handiwork. My longing. My hunger.

 

His hands return to my face. Where they were when I confessed my deepest desire. He kisses me softly. He breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead to mine. Our rapid breaths blending together.

 

“Say it again.” He whispers against my lips.

 

“I want another ba…....” my words are cut short as he pushes inside. Everything disappears but the delicious fullness of Nick returning to me. He kisses me through my moans, matching them with his own.

 

He’s smiling, almost laughing. Breath catching as he whispers “Let’s see what we can do about that.”

 


	14. The Kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen along!
> 
> YouTube link: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLSG7V-cpVcBUE7LRFyzGLMGoKg_Z0RCJr  
> Spotify Link: https://open.spotify.com/user/crollah/playlist/00P2gfN3FQVns4qWF9vdg1?si=5bjPeqysStGftSsMLkezuQ

 

 

I wake up slowly to the smell of coffee and pancakes.

 

Rain falls gently on the roof. White lace curtains flutter next to the open window. I can hear Nick in the kitchen, humming along to the radio.

 

_Home. This is what home feels like._

 

I pull on some clean panties and wrap Nick’s flannel around me like a bathrobe. Wash my face, pee and brush my teeth. I pad out quietly to the kitchen. He isn’t singing anymore. He must have heard me get up.

 

He’s standing at the stove with a spatula, carefully watching the griddle. _Is there such a thing as a normalcy kink? A domesticity kink? Because seeing Nick in PJs making breakfast is really turning me on._

 

Barefoot. Blue sweatpants hanging off his hips. Muscles of his back flexing gratuitously every time he moves. _His hair curls like that naturally. He woke up looking like James Dean. James Dean is making me pancakes._

 

“How do you like your eggs?” He asks over his shoulder, breaking my train of thought.

 

“Over easy.” I reply.

 

I walk to the cd player. Flip through the binder. Pull out the love songs mix. The one he warned me about. Pop it in, push play. The first song plays quietly. It’s one I haven’t heard before. Sweet melody.

 

_There are days_

_I wake up and I pinch myself_

_You're with me, not someone else_

_And I am scared, yeah, I'm still scared_

_That it's all a dream_

 

Nick flips off the stove, covers the pancakes with tin foil. He’s leaning against the counter, arms folded. Watching me hear this song for the first time.

 

_'Cause when you love someone_

_You open up your heart_

_When you love someone_

_You make room_

_If you love someone_

_And you're not afraid to lose 'em_

_You probably never loved someone like I do_

_You probably never loved someone like I do_

 

“Who is this?”

 

“Lukas Graham.”

 

“I haven’t heard it before”

 

“I hadn’t either. It came on Spotify at the nursery. Reminded me of you.”

 

_And you still look perfect as days go by_

_Even the worst ones, you make me smile_

_I'd stop the world if it gave us time_

 

I can’t help smiling. “It’s definitely… about us.”  My eyes return to his. He’s smiling too.

 

 _All my life_ _I thought it'd be hard to find_ _The One_

_'til I found you_

_And I find it bittersweet_

_Cause you gave me something to lose_

 

The melody turns bittersweet. Nick crosses the kitchen to me. I hug him and rest my head on his chest. He wraps his arms around me, rocking gently side to side. We dance slowly like this until the song finishes. He plants a tiny kiss on my head. _First dance as a married couple: check. See? Who needs a wedding?_

 

The second song is Bless the Broken Road by Rascal Flatts. We keep slow dancing. I never want this sweet moment to end.

 

_I think about the years I spent just passing through._

_I’d like to have the time I lost_

_And give it back to you._

_But you just smile and take my hand_

_You’ve been there. You understand._

_It’s all part of a grander plan that is coming true._

 

_Every long lost dream led me to where you are._

_Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars_

_Pointing me on my way into your loving arms_

_This much I know is true. That God blessed the broken road_

_That led me straight to you._

 

These lyrics are uncanny - it’s like they were written about him. That’s how Nick loves me. My stomach flips as I realize... these are things he wants to say to me. Things he can’t say out loud. My chest hurts. I always knew he loved me but hearing the depth of his devotion spoken so plainly is painful. I plant a quick soft kiss on his chest then go back to snuggling. _I love you too, baby._

 

“When a Man Loves a Woman” by Percy Sledge comes on next. And it’s worse. Romantic and aching and beautiful.

 

I look up at Nick’s dark eyes. He’s overwhelmed too. Giving me _that_ look. Like his love for me is almost too much to bear. Like I’m so beautiful it hurts. The eye contact makes it all worse. We move at the same time. Lips on lips. Hands on skin. Going home.

 

He walks me backward until I’m backed up against the kitchen counter. Kissing me. Pressing into me. Both hands tenderly caressing my face.

 

We’re kissing urgently but I need more. _I want him to fucking feel me._ I rake my nails hard down his back. I hope it leaves a mark. I want him to remember this.

 

He moans softly into my mouth, catching my eyes briefly, lids impossibly low, mouth open in reverent lust.

 

Nick’s lifting me onto the counter, ripping my panties down and off. An urgent echo of last night’s lovemaking. Movements saying everything he can’t with words. That he needs me close forever. He’d do anything for me. He wants me desperately. 

 

I remember the first four notes of the next song. Marvin Gaye. Lets Get It On.

 

But I don’t hear anything after that. Just Nick’s breath in my ear. The creaking of the counter under my weight. The rain against the window.

 

I soothe the red welts with my soft fingertips and explore down down down his muscled back. Slipping below his waistband, under his sweatpants.

 

Jesus he isn’t wearing any underwear. _Fuck me up, daddy._

 

I’m kneading his gorgeous ass. He’s perfect in my hands. Muscular and soft at the same time. Just the right amount of body hair. I squeeze hard, pulling him closer as I kiss him. He’s rocking his hips against mine. He’s so hard. So ready. Needing me too. But he's waiting. Patiently. For permission to take it further. So selfless. So good. Good boys should get rewards.

 

I’m pushing his sweats down quickly. Shoving his pants down as far as I can, freeing his manhood and I can feel it hot against my thigh and I need it inside me.

 

He pulls my hips to the edge, angles himself to my entrance and pushes inside with a groan. He goes in easily because I am fucking soaked for him. God he’s so THICK. His cock is so good. Filling me almost too tight.

 

I hold Nick’s face and kiss him as he fucks me on the kitchen counter. He tastes like coffee and maple syrup. Tongue and lips so soft and gentle. A direct contrast to the feral movements of his lower half- pulling my hips into his hard thrusts.

 

I gasp, gripping his dark curly hair as he breaks away and ravishes my neck, palming my breasts. 

 

His breaths are ragged. He’s moving so ferociously. He needs more too. He picks me up abruptly. I cling to his shoulders.

 

He turns and sits on the floor, back to the cabinets. I’m straddling his lap. Knees on the floor on either side of him.

 

He uses the leverage of this new position to rock his hips, pulling, guiding mine into a fast, hard rhythm. Then it clicks, our movements line up and it’s perfect and I ride him hard, like he wants me to.

 

His eyes close with a groan and his head falls back against the cabinet. He bites his lip hard, lost in it. He holds his breath, head pressing back harder, wincing at the perfection.

 

When his eyes find mine again they’re blown out. Black and burning. They read my face, connecting, checking in, seeing my pleasure. A smirk spreads across his lips.

 

Reactions from that gorgeous face are my greatest prize.  

 

I slow my pace. He winces at the loss of friction, fingers digging hard into my hips, pulling, urging me faster. I do the opposite of what he’s asking for and bring my hips to a stop.

 

Nick groans and sits up, desperate. Kissing my neck, breath hot over my ear. “Please.”

 

I speed up, back to that perfect rhythm. “Like that?” I whisper back softly

 

“Unhhhh yessssss” he groans “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

 

I repeat. Slowing down. With identical results. He’s a mess. Moaning. Kissing me hard. Moving like he can’t take not being in control.

 

Sure enough, seconds later I’m flat on my back on his kitchen floor.

 

He’s mounted me and pushed his thick cock back inside. My knees are slung over his shoulders. My wrists are pinned next to my head by his full body weight as he fucks me deep and hard. It doesn’t take long. It’s all too much. Being held down. Overpowered. Taken. Loved. By him. My eyes are closed, my head is thrown back. I’m coming. I’m coming so hard. He’s there too, forehead on mine, cursing, kissing me hard as he comes. Brow clenched in silent ecstasy.

 

He releases my wrists, hands on my face tenderly as we kiss. Reconnecting. Instantly gentle again.

 

He rolls to his back next to me and we catch our breath.

 

“So you like those songs too, huh?”

 

I look over to find my favorite smug grin.

 

I roll my eyes. “I like _fucking you_. Is what I like.”

 

He tsks. “You can say it. My seduction mix is working.”

 

He lays back, hands behind his head. Wide satisfied smile on his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoy writing stories for these two.  
> Please tell what you like so I can include more of that in the future!  
> I'm on tumblr @dystopiandramaqueen  
> <3 Thank you for reading!


	15. The Dock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick remembers the last time he saw his brother.

\--------------------------

 

I stretch deeply as I wake up. I sit up and rub my eyes. It’s dark in our little room. Dark outside the window. Must be really early. The sheets next to me are slept in, but cold and empty. Nick is nowhere in sight. He must have gotten up a while ago. I wonder what time it is.

 

I pull on some jeans and a sweatshirt. As I’m getting dressed I notice Nick’s sketchbook. Laying out on the desk across the room. I tuck it under my arm and head to the kitchen to get some coffee.

 

The kitchen's warm. Coffee’s already made. Of course it is. He left an empty mug next to the coffee pot- with a note under it.

 

_“Walk. Back soon. -N”_

 

I settle at the kitchen table, cross legged on the chair. Yawning deeply. Eyes closed. Allowing myself to wake up slowly. It’s so quiet. No cars, no people. Just birds chattering outside the cabin.  

 

As the coffee kicks in I flip through Nick’s old sketchbook. Spiral bound. Leather cover. I can’t get over how realistic his drawings are. Most are sketches of nature, all different seasons. Animals, trees, flowers, the sky, the cabin. Incredible detail. Some colored with pastel chalk. Some tinted with watercolor. They get better as the book goes on. I wonder how many years are recorded here. I smile thinking of younger Nick. Quietly noticing the beauty in everything around him. Wanting to hold on to it.

 

Near the back is an image that stops me cold. It’s from this morning. Me asleep in bed. It’s a really beautiful image. Intimate. Soft around the edges. Shaded with soft pastel tones. _I’m one of the things he wants to remember._

 

The screen door bangs against the house as I head outside. I don’t see him. The van’s still in the driveway. Generator is going. I head to the back of the cabin and find a small footpath. Leading downhill, winding through the woods to the lakeshore.

 

There’s a dock. I see Nick’s silhouette sitting on the end. The sun hasn’t broken over the trees yet. The sky is still dark.

 

I head out onto the dock and sit down next to him. He’s got that thousand mile stare. Eyes unfocused. Lost in his thoughts.

 

I sit down next to him. He looks over absently and nods.

 

I take his hand. He rubs my thumb with his. We sit and watch the sky.

 

“This is the last place I saw him.”

 

I look over. Holding the silence.

 

“Josh.” Another long beat before he continues. “We had a fight. Right here.”

 

I nod. Give his hand a squeeze. Listening. Knowing he’ll keep talking if he wants to.

 

He doesn’t. So we sit in silence. We watch the sunrise. Warm sunlight spilling across our skin.  

 

He sighs and hangs his head, shaking it slowly. Eyes closed. “I should have….”

 

“Hey.” I turn toward him. Hand on his leg. “It wasn’t your fault.”

 

“It was getting bad. I confronted him. Told him he needed help. I should have done more. But I didn’t and now he’s dead. Story of my life.”

 

“Hey. Story of your life. You did what you could.”

 

He’s shaking his head.

 

I continue. “Sometimes the problems are too big. Sometimes our best isn’t enough.”

 

Nick is staring at the shimmering water with a matching rim of unshed tears glistening in his eyes. I hate seeing him so sad. I rub his back. “I’m so sorry he’s gone. Wish I could have met him.”

 

He scoffs. “I don’t.”

 

“What?” I ask.

 

He checks himself, instantly regretting how it sounded. “That’s not what I mean.”

 

“Tell me what you mean.”

 

He rolls his eyes. Sighs deeply. “You would have loved Josh. Everybody did. You would have dated him instead of me. Story of my life part 2.”

 

“Really?”

 

He nods. Reading my face. “He was the handsome one.”

 

I can’t stop laughing. It’s bad. Like gasping for air, snorting, lap pounding, hysterical laughing. He’s tries to fight it but ends up smiling openly too.

 

He wraps his arm around me, pulls me close and leans his head against mine.

 

“I hadn’t been down here since he died. I’d forgotten how beautiful it is. We’d sneak out every night. Swim. Look at the stars. If the fireflies are still here its… its amazing. I want you to see it.”

 

“I’d like that. How about tonight?” I ask.

 

He smiles back, nodding. “It’s a date.” 

 


	16. The Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick porn. You've been warned.

\-------------------------------

 

After breakfast I move the stereo to the bathroom to listen to the rest of Nick's so called "seduction mix." 

 

The next song is "Lips on You" by Maroon 5. I like them. Hadn't heard this one before. It's chill. Hypnotic. Relaxing. 

 

I’m brushing my teeth when I see movement the mirror. My eyes snap up to see a reflection of Nick undressing in the bedroom. I watch as he pulls off his sweatshirt and slips out of his pajama pants. Mmmm. June's private striptease part 2. 

 

He comes in, starts the shower, testing the temperature with his hand. He steps into the stream and wets his dark curly hair, sighing as the hot water runs over his shoulders. He turns it off and reaches for the soap. “The water will only be hot for about 15 minutes. We'll have to make it last.”

 

 _‘Save water, share a shower’ I think_ _with amusement_. _That old trope. God this whole weekend is straight out of a trashy romance novel. Rustic cabin on a deserted island. There was only one bed!_

 

I step into the shower next to Nick. Aware of the ever present electricity between our bodies. The way time moves slower when we're this close. Senses heightened by our tantric energy. Hyper aware of him, of his body- naked, wet and already hard for me. 

 

_Where to start? What would a girl in a romance novel do? Ah yes. She’d wash her filthy man. Gratuitously. Because he had gotten very very dirty._

 

I nod at the soap in Nick’s hand.

 

“Can I?”

 

He nods, watching me.

 

I take it, lather my hands and set it down.

 

I start on his shoulders. Trailing my slippery fingertips lightly down his arms. Tracing the boundaries of his deltoids and biceps. He shivers when I cross his collarbone.

 

Next I smooth my palms over his firm pecs as they rise and fall with each breath. Washing his chest with wide lazy circles. Spending extra time on the island of dark hair in the center of his chest. Why is chest hair such a turn on? 

 

Then I drag my fingers down the valley between his abs. Literally ridged like a washboard. Enjoying the trail of dark hair that also occupies this region. I flatten my hands and clean his abdomen, then descend to his thighs. Enjoying the low moan this evokes. His inner thighs are incredibly soft. The hair and the skin. This may be my new favorite body part of his. His cock twitches when my hands get too close. I see his hands ball into fists then relax. His body is leaning toward me. I look up to check in. His eyelids are impossibly low and he’s barely breathing. Brows knit together. He looks uncomfortable.

 

”Feel ok?” I ask.

 

He lets out a shuddery breath and nods.

 

I bite my lip and return to the job at hand. _I guess it feels more than ok._

 

Stepping closer, I wrap my arms around him. Fingers tracing the muscular columns of his sculpted back. Muscles hard, skin so soft. Down, down, down. When I reach his ass my eyes flutter shut and an obscene sound escapes me before I can stop it. Sweet mercy. I could spend the rest of this shower palming his ass with soapy hands. This is a whole new level of erotic. Nick chuckles quietly at my fixation. I feel him leaning toward me again, lips toward my neck, breath warm on my shoulder. Fuck. It’s too good. Too hot. Focus. Wash your man. Your dirty, filthy man. I steel myself and slide my hands to his hips -pausing-  mentally preparing to get started on his front half when he grabs my wrists. Hard.

 

“My turn.” He breathes.

 

We hold smoldering eye contact and smirk at each other. He nods for me to turn around. I comply and he steps behind me. The CD transitions to the next track as we change positions. The next song is "Unchained Melody" by the Righteous Brothers. Putting this cd back on was a terrible idea. What the fuck was I thinking. 

 

Nick runs the water for a moment, rinsing himself and wetting my skin before turning it back off.

 

He lathers his hands with the soap before setting it down. I’m breathing hard already. Every nerve on fire awaiting his touch.

 

He lays his hands on my waist. Palms hot against my skin. They slide up to my chest, kneading my breasts gently. My nipples harden, aching, begging, for his touch. His fingers circle closer to the desperate peaks. When he finally arrives he rolls and tugs the engorged nerves between his skilled fingers and I’m burning alive. Flushed, dizzy, weak. Pussy throbbing, aching for his cock.

 

I’m grinding back against him. Rubbing my ass against his hardness. Trying to get it to come out and play.

 

“Shhhhh…let's go slow.” He whispers. Running his hands up and down my arms. “....it’s ok.”  

 

I rest my head back on his shoulder. Trying to slow my heartbeat. Relaxing into his care. It's his turn to work me up into a frenzy. It's only fair.

 

He kisses my left shoulder. Breath warm on my skin. His right hand slides south.

 

I step my feet apart, making room. He’s so gentle. Nuzzling, kissing my neck, as his fingers move softly over my mound. He laughs quietly. Breath warm in my ear. Tone delicious and naughty and horny. I can almost see the quirked eyebrow.

 

“You shaved?”

 

I nod.

 

“For me?”

 

I nod again, laughing breathily.

 

“Feels good.” He breathes. “I like it.”

 

He pulls me back tight against his body. Making sure I feel him. And I do feel him. _All_ of him. Hard. Pressed close in the cleft between my cheeks. Oh Fuck. I can feel every inch, every ridge of his erection. Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

 

The world narrows down to my body and Nick's hands. Held captive between his cock and his velvety fingertips. The heel of his right hand rests on my pubic bone as his fingers tease my folds apart and probe between so gently. His breath catches. Voice a low raspy whisper.  

 

“You. Are. So. Fucking. Wet.”  

 

“That’s all for you.” I murmur.

 

His grip tightens on my hip. 

 

I turn my lips to his ear. “You like that? Knowing how badly I want you inside me?”

 

He exhales hard, lowering his forehead to my shoulder. Eyes clenched shut, lip caught between his teeth. Biting it hard to maintain the shreds of control he has left. 

 

I feel sick, dizzy with need for him. I reach back to touch him. Instantly regretting it. The ache so much worse now. God help me. A desperate plea wrenches out of me before I can stop it. Voice trembling as I squeeze his slick slippery thigh. “Nick… _please_ …”

 

“It’s ok….” He’s kissing my ear- murmuring “Trust me, it’s ok...I’ve got you…” but his body tells a different story. He’s not ok either. Chest rising and falling fast against my back. Heart pounding as hard as mine is. He’s losing control too.

 

He leans away for just a second to flip the hot water back on.

 

When he returns his cheek is back on mine as he angles his cock underneath me, putting it between my legs. Hot and hard against my folds. So fucking thick.

 

We moan in unison and Nick pulls my hips back hard, rocking forward instinctively. I step my legs together- squeezing my thighs tight around his manhood.

 

“Fuck.” He’s smoothing his palms in hot circles over my hips. Breaths a shuddery mess in my ear. “June...I want you so bad, You feel so fucking good...”

 

I spin into his arms, kissing his lips, pulling his hips to mine. He’s pulling my hips to his just as frantically, squeezing my ass sensuously, moaning into our kisses.

 

I want to lay down- pull him on top of me. Let him move between my legs. I’m urgently kissing, licking, sucking every inch of skin I can reach.

 

Then something snaps and he flips me around, pushing me down to my hands and knees, dropping to his knees behind me. Breaths tight and shallow.

 

He lands a hard slap on my ass. I moan appreciatively at the naughtiness of it. My body responds with fresh lubrication and my nipples are rock hard again. He rubs the sting out of my cheek. Palming my ass like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He spanks me again, harder, and I moan brokenly. It’s so damn good but I’m going to die if he doesn’t fuck me soon. I’m begging “Nick _please_ ”

 

“Please what” the raspy whisper. He's massaging my breasts again. God fucking help me. 

 

“Fuck me. Please. I need you.” I whisper back. Shaking with want.

 

I focus on feeling my hands on the wet tile. Breathe. Just breathe. I prepare myself for penetration. Fullness. Release.

 

I'm completely unprepared for what I actually feel. Nick’s breath, his kisses, his mouth on me. Eating me out from behind. 

 

My face is frozen somewhere between shock and ecstasy. I can’t move or think.

 

He’s kneading the soft flesh on either side of his warm perfect mouth. Moaning like he’s unbearably aroused. Kissing and licking gently. Lips and tongue so soft. 

 

He sounds like he’s in heaven. Like I’m coated in honey. Like he wants so much more of me. I feel his tongue swipe over my center again and again, pleasuring every inch of me. Even parts he shouldn’t. Because he wants all of me. And nothing is off limits and he needs as much of me as he can get.

 

“NICK!!!!” I squeak out, face burning red with arousal.

 

But he doesn’t stop. He spreads me further apart with his hands. Devouring my pussy. No longer exploratory. Ravenous and carnal. Pulling me back hard onto his face, smothering, burying himself in his lovemaking. I lose it when he starts sucking on my clit. I’m wailing and coming hard on his face.

 

He slows, replacing his mouth with calloused hands, fingers slipping inside, fucking me just right with downward pressure on my g-spot. Breaths deliciously shallow and shaky. Getting off on getting me off. I find myself bucking backwards to keep the high going. He soothes me with a gentle hand on my back. Whispering, reassurances. Urging me to relax into it. We both know he’ll get me there again soon.

 

When I’m ready to build again he adds gentles circles on my clit. Then his breath catches and I feel his thumb pad graze gently over my most private area. My back door. He's never touched me there before. It feels fucking incredible. He circles his thumb so gently. Tentatively. Reverently. 

 

“Does that feel ok?” he whispers hoarsely. “Can I touch you here?” I nod vigorously. I’m babbling _yes_ and _please_ and pushing back into him, aching for more pressure on everything. I want to cry it feels so good. He keeps gentle circles there, _and_ on my clit _and_ inside and how many hands does he have?

 

I’m losing it. Falling. I can’t. It’s too good. I’m coming again. I need him. I’m calling to him and reaching back for him but he already knows and he needs me too and he’s finally inside, fucking me, thrusts unrestrained and desperate. Pulling me back, back, back onto his cock hard, hard, hard and his sounds are beautiful and his hand is squeezing mine and we come together, loud. _So fucking loud._ Sobbing like we’re in pain. Thank God there are no neighbors.

 

My mind goes blank. Empty. Silent.

 

Then I’m back. On my hands and knees in his shower.

 

Fucked out. Boneless. Forehead on my arms. Water running down my face, off my chin and lips. Breathe. Just breathe.

 

Nick’s forehead is on my back, arm wrapped around my middle. We’re shuddering. Gasping.

 

He’s asking if I’m ok. Voice raspy. Wrecked.

 

I nod. “You ok?” I ask.

 

He shakes his head and kisses my back. It’s one of our jokes. He’s never ok after.

 

He flips the water off. It was ice cold. We hadn’t noticed.

 

\---------------------------

 

We’re lying in bed after. Warming up under the covers. Snuggling through the serotonin drop. His chest rising and falling. Steady and warm and perfect. Strong muscular arms wrapped around me. I’m always surprised how soft he is to touch. And how clean he smells. Like lavender and chamomile. Like warm tea in a hot bath. His energy calming and soothing. He’s playing with locks of my hair.

 

“Was that ok?”

 

“What?” I murmur.

 

“The new stuff.” He mutters. “I should have asked first.”

 

I pause- eyes narrowed in confusion. I pull back and read his face, and let him see mine. He looks embarrassed and I’m not sure what for.

 

I shake my head, smiling reassuringly. “Everything you did felt good. You _did_ ask. You _did_ check in. You always do.”

 

He looks unconvinced. “I won’t do any of that again unless you ask me too.”  Clearly needing more reassurance that he hadn’t crossed any lines. Clearing his throat. “I'm sorry....I just got... _really_ turned on.”

 

I feel goosebumps rising. Well shit now I’m horny again. For my dirty, filthy husband. Who always checks in and pleasures me before himself and makes me feel beautiful and powerful and safe. I trace fingers over his chest again. Eyebrow quirking up. 

 

“Nick...I _like_ turning you on. I _like_ when you stop holding back. I _like_ when you fuck me like an animal. That’s my kink, Nick. Making you lose your cool. I like when you take control in bed.”

 

I straddle his lap, hands on his shoulders. He sits up, back against the headboard. His dark smoldering eyes are locked on mine. I slowly trace my fingers down his arms, wrapping my hands around his wrists. Then quickly pin them to the wall by his head. He doesn’t resist.

 

“Unless it’s my turn to be on top. Then you’d better do... _exactly_ …what I say.”

 

He smirks, eyes simmering with amused affection and rebellious defiance.

 

“Or….what?”

 

I keep a straight face despite my racing heart. “Are you sure you want to find out?”

 

He smirks, lids lowering. Eyes darkening. “You’re insatiable.”

 

I shrug. “You’re too damn good in bed. I can’t get enough of you.”

 

I hear my words echoed from the stereo. Over and over.

 

 _It’s closer to the truth to say you can’t get enough_.

_Might as well face it. You’re addicted to love._

_Might as well face it. You’re addicted to love._

_Might as well face it. You’re addicted to love._

 

Nick nods toward the music, raised eyebrow, waiting for me to admit that I’m impressed with his song choices.

 

I roll my eyes. “I mean. It’s a perfect mix. What can I say.”

 

He nods. Looking quite pleased with himself.

 

Then he leans forward and kisses my lips softly. Sliding his hands down just enough to intertwine his fingers with mine. Leaving his hands pressed to the wall under mine.

 

Mmm. Fucking filthy.

 

My turn.

 


	17. Fireflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope for the future.  
> Light in the darkness.

\----------------------------

 

We swim at sunset. Heading inside at twilight when the mosquitoes get bad. We have dinner and play cards until the air clears.

 

When night falls, quiet and peaceful, we venture back outside to watch the stars.

 

We’re lying on blankets on a grassy knoll. Hands interlaced. Night breeze gently bending the treetops. Watching the clouds pass in front of the full moon. Nick’s pointing out constellations. Not the easy ones. Not the ones I remember from before. The really esoteric ones. Telling me all the cheesy romantic stories behind them.

 

The air is so clean. Freshly filtered by the trees. Untainted by humans.

 

Starlight from millions of miles away shines just for us. Diamonds on black velvet. No cities nearby to diminish the glory.

 

We’re serenaded by nature. The night animals and birds. Frogs. Crickets. Singing just for us.

 

Nick sits up and points toward the tree line. I stare beyond his fingertip- unsure- then I see it. A flash of neon light in the darkness. Then again. Then two. Then four. In a matter of minutes the air grows thick with fireflies. It feels like a dream. Like the magic of the old fairy tales.

 

We’re surrounded by blinking lights. Swirling, dancing around us. Like heaven come down to earth.

 

“We should come back here.” I whisper. “I want Hannah and Holly to know this place.”

 

Nick nods, smiling.

 

I swallow and turn to him. “And their little brother.”

 

He looks at me, confused. Then it dawns on him. He props up on an elbow and puts his hand on my belly. Staring at me. Eyes shimmering. Matching the dark water lapping the shore. “Yeah?”

 

I nod. “Yeah. I’m pretty much an expert at this point. I think it’s a boy.”

 

He closes his eyes. Overwhelmed by some emotion. He smiles and nods. Loving the idea. “How can you tell?”

 

I smile. “It feels different. And they say having sex just once makes girls. They say if you want a boy you should keep trying. As much as you can.”

 

I can’t see him but I can feel the heat from his body. He rolls on top of me. Hips pressed to mine. Lips tracing over my neck, ghosting over my mouth. “So you’re saying...if we want a boy...we should keep trying?”

 

I nod and grin, body arching to him. “Can’t be too careful” I whisper- repurposing his old line about condoms. Smiling devilishly. Pressing my hips against his. Breathing my challenge. “Come on daddy. Give mama what she needs.” He presses back into me. Hard as fuck against my jeans. He drags his lips over mine. “What’s mama need?”

 

“I want another baby, Nick.”

 

He laughs and kisses me deeply- moving his weight to his left arm as he reaches between us urgently to unfasten his belt and unbutton my jeans.

 

“Let’s see what we can do about that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nick's Playlist for June:
> 
> 1\. Love Someone - Lukas Graham
> 
> 2\. Bless the Broken Road - Rascal Flatts
> 
> 3\. When a Man Loves a Woman - Percy Sledge
> 
> 4\. Let's Get it On- Marvin Gaye
> 
> 5\. Lips on You - Maroon 5
> 
> 6\. Unchained Melody- The Righteous Brothers
> 
> 7\. Closer- Nine Inch Nails
> 
> 8\. Addicted To Love- Florence + The Machine
> 
> 9\. Fireflies- Owl City
> 
> 10\. Stolen- Dashboard Confessional
> 
> 11\. I Choose You- Andy Grammer
> 
> 12\. All To Myself- Dan + Shay
> 
> 13\. Lights Down Low- MAX
> 
> 14\. Slow Hands - Niall Horan
> 
> 15\. Stoned on You - Jaymes Young
> 
> 16\. Keep on Loving You - Cigarettes After Sex
> 
> 17\. Life After You- Daughtry
> 
> 18\. (I can't help) Falling In Love With you- Bely Basarte
> 
> 19\. Give Me Love- Ed Sheeran
> 
> 20\. Paperweight - Joshua Radin and Schuyler Fisk
> 
> 21\. I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab for Cutie
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLSG7V-cpVcBUE7LRFyzGLMGoKg_Z0RCJr
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/crollah/playlist/00P2gfN3FQVns4qWF9vdg1?si=NuyP7_mSTVSTZkdD7pzoSQ

**Author's Note:**

> The Handmaid's Tale (book and TV season 1) ends with June stepping up into a black van. Unsure where it will lead her. 
> 
> This was intended to be the next chapter of her story. 
> 
> It could also occur later in the TV series if she is able to escape Gilead.


End file.
